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THE   BERRY   PAPERS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

WILLIAM   MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY:  A 

Biography. 
THE  THACKERAY  COUNTRY. 
SOME  ASPECTS  OF  THACKERAY. 
THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM 

BECKFORD. 
THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  LAURENCE 

STERNE. 
VICTORIAN  NOVELISTS. 
THE  LIFE   AND   LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM 

COBBETT. 
"THE  FIRST  GEORGE." 
"FARMER  GEORGE." 

"THE  FIRST  GENTLEMAN  OF  EUROPE." 
"AN  INJURED  QUEEN"   (CAROLINE   OF 

BRUNSWICK). 
THE  BEAUX  OF  THE  REGENCY. 
SOME  ECCENTRICS  AND  A  WOMAN. 
BATH  UNDER  BEAU  NASH. 
BRIGHTON  :  Its  History,  Its  Follies,  and 

Its  Fashions. 
SOCIETY     AT    TUNBRIDGE    WELLS     IN 

THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 


un  tAe  J%A7/ur?i£  tAloiaam-  c&&a&0ru 


THE  BERRY  PAPERS 

BEING  THE  CORRESPONDENCE 
HITHERTO  UNPUBLISHED  OF 

MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY 

(1763-18 5 2).  BY  LEWIS  MELVILLE 
WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS, or  *r  or  ur 


LONDON  :  JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 
NEW  YORK:  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
TORONTO  :    BELL  faf  COCKBURN.      MCMXIV 


Printed  by  Ballantynk,  Hanson  &  Co. 
at  the  Ballantyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


I 


College 
Library 


DA 


TO 
MY   WIFE 


^ 


y£2>*ib^ 


PREFACE 

THE  Misses  Berry  died  in  1852,  and  thirteen 
years  later  appeared  Extracts  from  the  Jour- 
nals and  Correspondence  of  Mary  Berry, 
which  had  been  prepared  for  press  by 
Lady  Theresa  Lewis.  As  the  title  indicates,  these 
volumes  included  but  a  selection  of  the  papers  left  by 
Mary  Berry,  and  the  present  work  may  be  regarded  as 
supplementary  to  the  "  Extracts."  The  hitherto  un- 
published correspondence  includes  letters  written  by, 
or  addressed  to,  the  two  sisters,  Professor  John  Playfair, 
Maria  Edgeworth,  Richard  Owen  Cambridge,  Elizabeth 
Montagu,  Lord  Jeffery,  John  Whishaw,  the  sixth  Duke 
of  Devonshire,  the  Carlisles,  the  Hardwickes,  the  second 
Lord  Palmerston,  Thomas  Brand,  Lord  Colchester,  the 
Countess  of  Albany,  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay,  Richard 
Westmacott,  Lord  Dudley,  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell, 
Sarah  Austin,  the  Hon.  Caroline  Howe,  Lord  Dover, 
Chevalier  Jerningham,  Dean  Milman,  &c.  There  is  also 
printed  for  the  first  time  a  long  series  of  self-revealing 
letters  exchanged  between  Mary  Berry  and  the  Hon. 
Mrs.  Damer,  concerning  which  the  former  wrote  in 
1842: 

"These  letters,  selected  from  a  hundred  others,  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  destroy.  I  cannot  for  my  soul 
obliterate  all  memory  of  the  truest,  the  most  faithful  and 

Yii 


viii  BERRY    PAPERS 

most  generous  Friendship  that  ever  animated  two  human 
Beings. 

"  I  am  aware  that  when  I  am  gone  these  letters  can 
interest  nobody.  I  am  aware  that  they  are  almost  en- 
tirely expressions  of  character  and  of  affection.  But  I 
cannot  ask  my  own  hands  to  destroy  the  flattering  proofs 
of  having  been  the  object  of  such  affection,  of  such 
constant,  unwearied,  unselfish  Friendship.  Would  that 
the  conscious  pride  with  which  I  look  back  to  these 
recollections  was  entirely  unsullied  by  my  not  having 
borne  with  sufficient  patience  in  later  years  some  weak- 
nesses and  peculiarities  which  I  felt  indignant  at  creep- 
ing over  such  a  character  as  Hers  ! 

"  Oh  noble,  elevated,  and  tender  Spirit !  if,  from  some 
higher  state  of  existence,  thou  canst  read  my  inmost  Soul, 
as  thou  ever  didst  in  this — Read  then  my  self-reproaches. 
Read  the  just  punishment  of  such  impatience,  in  the 
entirely  widowed  Soul  that  has  thus  long  survived  Thee, 
wandering  through  the  world — 'without  a  second  and 
without  a  judge.'"1 

Most  interesting,  too,  is  the  correspondence,  also 
printed  for  the  first  time,  between  Mary  Berry,  Mrs. 
Damer,  and  General  Charles  O'Hara,  written  when 
Mary  Berry  was  engaged  to  the  soldier.  "  This  parcel 
of  letters,"  Mary  Berry  wrote  in  October  1844,  "relates 
to  the  six  happiest  months  of  my  long  and  insignificant 
existence,  although  these  six  months  were  accompanied 
by  fatiguing  and  unavoidable  uncertainty,  and  by  the 
absence  of  everything  that  could  constitute  present  en- 
joyment. But  I  looked  forward  to  a  future  existence 
which  I  felt,  for  the  first  time  would  have  called  out  all 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  I- 


PREFACE  ix 

the  powers  of  ray  mind  and  all  the  warmest  feelings  of 
my  heart,  and  should  have  been  supported  by  one  who 
but  for  the  cruel  absence  which  separated  us,  would 
never  have  for  a  moment  doubted  that  we  should  have 
materially  contributed  to  each  other's  happiness.  These 
prospects  served  even  to  pass  cheerfully  a  long  winter 
of  delays  and  uncertainty,  by  keeping  my  mind  firmly 
riveted  on  their  accomplishment.  A  concatenation 
of  unfortunate  circumstances  —  the  political  state  of 
Europe  making  absence  a  necessity,  and  even  frequent 
communication  impossible ;  letters  lost  and  delayed,  all 
certainty  of  meeting  more  difficult,  questions  unanswered, 
doubts  unsatisfied, — all  these  circumstances  combined  in 
the  most  unlucky  manner,  crushed  the  fair  fabric  of  my 
happiness,  not  at  one  fell  swoop,  but  by  the  slow  mining 
misery  of  loss  of  confidence,  of  unmerited  complaints, 
of  finding  by  degrees  misunderstandings,  and  the  firm 
rock  of  mutual  confidence  crumbling  under  my  feet, 
while  my  bosom  for  long  could  not  banish  a  hope  that 
all  might  yet  be  set  right.  And  so  it  would,  had  we  ever 
met  for  twenty-four  hours.  But  he  remained  at  his 
government  at  Gibraltar  till  his  death,  in  1802.  And  I, 
forty-two  years  afterwards,  on  opening  these  papers 
which  had  been  sealed  up  ever  since,  receive  the  convic- 
tion that  some  feelings  in  some  minds  are  indelible." 

An  introductory  chapter  tells  the  story  of  the  life 
of  the  Misses  Berry  from  their  birth  until  1790,  when 
the  hitherto  unpublished  correspondence  begins,  and 
it  contains  some  particulars  of  their  family  history, 
their  early  years,  their  first  visits  to  the  Continent,  and 
their  acquaintance  with  Horace  Walpole.  From  that 
date  the  letters  have  been  allowed,  so  far  as  possible, 
to  carry  on  the  narrative. 


x  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  sisters  lived,  respectively,  to  the  great  ages  of 
eighty-eight  and  eighty-nine,  and  thus  were  the  last 
links  between  the  early  years  of  the  reign  of  George  III 
and  the  mid- Victorian  era.  "A  very  few  years  since," 
Thackeray  said  in  one  of  his  lectures  on  "The  Four 
Georges,"  "  I  knew  familiarly  a  lady,  who  had  been 
asked  in  marriage  by  Horace  Walpole,  who  had  been 
patted  on  the  head  by  George  III.  This  lady  had  knocked 
at  Johnson's  door  ;  had  been  intimate  with  Fox,  the 
beautiful  Georgina  of  Devonshire,  and  that  brilliant 
Whig  society  of  the  reign  of  George  III ;  had  known 
the  Duchess  of  Queensberry,  the  patroness  of  Gay  and 
Prior,  the  admired  young  beauty  of  the  Court  of  Queen 
Anne.  I  often  thought  as  I  took  my  kind  old  friend's 
hand,  how  with  it  I  held  on  to  the  old  society  of  wits 
and  men  of  the  world.  I  could  travel  back  for  seven 
score  years  of  time — have  glimpses  of  Brummel,  Selwyn, 
Chesterfield,  and  the  men  of  pleasure ;  of  Walpole  and 
Conway ;  of  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Goldsmith ;  of  North, 
Chatham,  Newcastle ;  of  the  fair  maids  of  honour  of 
George  II's  Court ;  of  the  German  retainers  of  George 
I's  ;  where  Addison  was  Secretary  of  State  ;  where  Dick 
Steele  held  a  place ;  whither  the  great  Marlborough 
came  with  his  fiery  spouse ;  when  Pope,  and  Swift, 
and  Bolingbroke  yet  lived  and  wrote."  The  Berrys 
went  everywhere  and  knew  everyone ;  and  their  salon, 
held  first  at  No.  26  North  Audley  Street,  and  later 
at  No.  8  Curzon  Street,  was  one  of  the  features  of 
London  society.  There  night  after  night  were  as- 
sembled all  the  wit  and  beauty  of  that  time.  Miss 
Kate  Perry  wrote  in  her  privately-printed  Remini- 
scences of  a  London  Drawing-room,  "There  was  a 
charm  about  these  gatherings  of  friends,  that  hereafter 


PREFACE  xi 

we  may  say :  '  There  is  no  salon  now  to  compare  with 
that  of  the  Miss  Berrys.' " 

Besides  the  Journals  and  Correspondence  now  in 
the  British  Museum,  the  principal  authorities  for  the 
life  of  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry  are  the  Diary  of  Lord 
Colchester  ;  Thomas  Moore's  Journals  ;  Letters  to  Ivy  from 
the  first  Earl  of  Dudley  ;  Harriet  Martineau's  Biographical 
Portraits ;  Lord  Houghton's  Monographs ;  Horace  Wal- 
pole's  Letters;  and  Warburton's  Memoir  of  Horace  Walpole 
and  his  Contemporaries  ;  Letters  of  Harriet,  Countess  Gran- 
ville ;  Cobbett's  Memorials  of  Twickenham ;  Clayden's 
Samuel  Rogers  and  his  Contemporaries ;  Mrs.  Brookfield 
and  her  Circle  ;  Horace  Walpole' s  Twin-Wives  (Temple  Bar, 
March  1891);  and  Captain  Hamilton's  Cyril  Thornton. 

I  am  much  indebted  to  Mrs.  Charles  H.  E.  Brook- 
field  for  the  loan  of  a  copy  of  Miss  Kate  Perry's 
privately-printed  and  exceedingly  rare  Reminiscences  of 
a  London  Drawing-room,  which  contains  much  interesting 
information  concerning  the  Berrys  ;  and  to  Mr.  A.  M. 
Broadley,  who  has  most  generously  permitted  me  to 
insert  letters  hitherto  unpublished  from  the  Countess 
of  Albany,  Maria  Edgeworth,  and  Lord  Jeffery,  to  Mary 
Berry  ;  and  from  Mary  Berry  to  Lady  Hardwicke,  Eliza- 
beth Montagu,  Mrs.  Lamb,  and  Kate  Perry,  the  originals 
of  which  are  in  his  library.  To  the  Rev.  Henry  W. 
Clark,  the  author  of  the  admirable  History  of  English 
Nonconformity,  I  owe  many  thanks  for  assistance  ren- 
dered during  the  preparation  of  this  work. 

LEWIS  MELVILLE. 
London,  July  1913. 


CONTENTS 


SECTION  I 

THE  EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY 
(1763-1789) 

PA< 

Mary  Berry's  Notes  of  Early  Life — Her  silence  concerning  her  father's 
forebears — Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe  states  that  her  maternal 
grandfather  was  a  tailor — Her  great-uncle  Ferguson's  career — His 
childless  marriage — His  sister's  sons,  Robert  and  William,  his  natural 
heirs — Robert  Berry's  early  life — His  marriage  with  Miss  Seton 
alienates  his  uncle — The  birth  of  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry — The 
death  of  Mrs.  Robert  Berry — Ferguson  wishes  Robert  Berry  to 
marry  again — His  refusal  brings  about  a  breach  between  them — 
William  Berry  is  informed  that  he,  not  Robert,  will  be  his  uncle's 
heir — Mary  Berry's  life-long  bitterness  at  the  loss  of  fortune — Robert 
Berry's  weakness  of  character — The  girls  live  with  their  grandmother 
in  Yorkshire — Robert  Berry  rents  College  House,  Chiswick — His 
daughters'  education — Sir  George  and  Lady  Cayley — Mary  Berry's 
first  suitor — The  death  of  Ferguson — Robert  Berry's  legacy — Mary 
Berry's  dissatisfaction — a  tour  in  the  west  of  England — A  visit  to 
Weymouth — With  the  Craufords  at  Rotterdam — A  Dutch  tour — 
Switzerland  and  Italy  — An  autobiographical  passage — Florence — 
Sir  Horace  Mann — Turin — Rome — Naples — Montpellier — Paris — 
Return  to  England — The  Berrys  after  their  return  from  abroad 
— Their  meeting  with  Horace  Walpole — Their  acquaintance  with 
him  ripens  into  intimacy — Walpole's  account  of  them — His  affection 
for  the  sisters — He  laughs  at  the  discrepancy  in  age  between  him 
and  them — Mary  his  favourite — He  writes  his  Reminiscences  of  the 
Courts  of  George  I  and  George  II  for  their  entertainment — He 
dedicates  to  them  his  Catalogue  of  Strawberry  Hill — He  introduces 
them  to  the  Conways — Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury — Anne  Seymour 
Conway — Her  artistic  instincts — Ceracchi's  statue  of  her  as  the 
Muse  of  Sculpture — Her  marriage  with  the  Hon.  John  Damer — 
Darner's  extravagance — He  commits  suicide — Lady  Sarah  Lennox 
on  the  ill-fated  marriage — Lord  Milton's  brutal  behaviour  to  his 
daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Damer — Mrs.  Damer  goes  to  her  father's 
house — She  goes  abroad — She  rents  a  house  in  Sackville  Street — 
Lady  Sarah  Lennox's  pen-portrait  of  her — Mrs.  Darner's  later  life  . 

SECTION   II 

THE  BERRYS  ABROAD  {October  1790  to  November  1791) 

Mary  Berry's  Memoranda  for  1 790-1 — The  sisters  correspond  regularly 
with  Horace  Walpole — His  letters — His  affection  for  them — His 
longing  for  their  company — He  refuses  their  offer  to  return — His 
jealousy  of  their   friends — Unpublished  correspondence  of  Mrs. 


xiv  BERRY    PAPERS 

PACE 

Damer  and  Mary  Berry — The  Berrys  depart  for  Italy — Mrs.  Darner's 
devotion  to  Mary  Berry — Dr.  George  Fordyce — M.  and  Mine,  de 
Boufflers  —  Edward  Jerningham,  "the  charming  man"  —  Lady 
Melbourne — Mrs.  Damer  winters  abroad — Lady  Elizabeth  Foster 
— Mrs.  Cholmeley — General  Charles  O'Hara — The  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Richmond — Lady  Bristol — Giardini — Richard  Cosway 
— The  Countess  of  Albany,  wife  of  "  The  Young  Pretender  " — An 
accident  to  Mary  Berry — Her  ill-health — The  rivalry  between  the 
French  and  English  captains  of  passenger- vessels  at  Calais — 
Burke's  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France — Horace  Walpole's 
jealousy — Mrs.  Elizabeth  Hervey — Mrs.  Buller — Cicero's  Letters — 
Lucan — Lady  Aylesbury — Mrs.  Darner's  studio — She  falls  from  the 
scaffold — Protestations  of  friendship — Lady  Duncannon — Mrs. 
Damer  slandered  in  the  Newspapers — William  Combe  expresses  his 
desire  to  apologise  for  his  statements — Lady  Mount  Edgcumbe — 
Mrs.  Darner's  statue  of  George  III — The  fate  of  the  French  Royal 
family — Lady  Mary  Churchill — Walpole's  indignation  that  the 
Countess  of  Albany  does  not  recognise  the  Berrys'  name — The 
Countess  of  Albany  and  Alfieri — Lady  Frederick  Campbell — Lady 
Craven — Walpole  suffers  from  rheumatism — Foolish  paragraphs 
in  the  World — Edward  Topham — Mrs.  Damer  at  Felpham — 
Horace  Walpole  desires  the  Berrys  to  live  at  Cliveden  after  their 
return  to  England — The  Countess  of  Albany  proposes  to  visit 
Scotland — Lord  Frederick  Campbell — Mrs.  Damer  and  her  mother 
— Madame  de  Cambis — Walpole's  anxiety  about  the  Berrys  return- 
ing via  France — His  appeal  to  them  to  alter  their  projected  route — 
Field- Marshal  Conway — German  inns — The  Berrys' carriage  breaks 
down  near  Bologna 23 


SECTION   III 

THE   BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY   HILL 
(1792-1794) 

The  Berrys  return  to  England — Horace  Walpole  desires  them  to  live  at 
Little  Strawberry  Hill — Kitty  Clive — Walpole's  lines  to  her — A 
newspaper  attack  on  the  Berrys — Mary  Berry  thereupon  decides  not 
to  live  at  Little  Strawberry  Hill — Walpole  eventually  persuades  her 
to  do  so — Walpole  succeeds  to  the  earldom  of  Orford — His  distress 
thereat — A  false  rumour  that  he  proposed  marriage  to  Mary  Berry 
— A  proposal  of  marriage  to  Anne  Seymour  Damer — William 
Augustus  Fawkener — Correspondence  between  Mary  Berry  and 
Mrs.  Damer  concerning  the  proposed  marriage — The  Berrys  at  Sir 
George  Cayley's — Lord  Orford  unwell — Lady  Aylesbury — The 
Berrys  at  Scarborough — Lord  Hartington — Field- Marshal  Conway 
— Jemingham's  play,  The  Siege  of  Berwick — "Pretty  Mrs.  Stanhope" 
— Captain  Nugent — Lord  Moira  and  the  expedition  to  Brittany — 
Admiral  Lord  Howe — Mrs.  Darner's  bust  of  Miss  Berry — William 
Combe — The  Berrys  in  Yorkshire — They  return  to  Little  Straw- 
berry Hill — Agnes  Berry  at  Cheltenham — Mary  and  Mr.  Berry  at 
Park  Place — The  Berrys  at  Prospect  House,  Isle  of  Thanet — The 
Greatheads — Mrs.  Damer  at  Goodwood — Her  new  town  house — 
Professor  Playfair — Miss  Berry's  play 88 


CONTENTS  xv 

SECTION  IV 
THE   LOVE-STORY   OF   MARY   BERRY   (1795-1796) 

PAGE 

Mary  Berry  in  love  at  sixteen — Her  one  serious  love-affair — General 
Charles  O'Hara — His  early  career — He  first  meets  Mary  Berry — 
His  further  career — At  Gibraltar  and  Toulon — Imprisoned  in  the 
Luxembourg — On  his  return  proposes  to  Mary  Berry — She  accepts 
him — The  engagement  kept  a  secret  from  all  but  Mrs.  Darner — 
The  death  of  Field-Marshal  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway — Correspond- 
ence, mainly  concerning  O'Hara,  between  Mrs.  Darner  and  Mary 
Berry — Agnes  Berry's  love-affair — The  departure  of  O'Hara  to 
take  up  the  Governorship  of  Gibraltar — a  pen-portrait  of  O'Hara 
at  Gibraltar — Mary  Berry's  reasons  for  not  marrying  him  before 
his  departure — The  breaking  off  of  the  engagement — Mary  Berry's 
regrets  after  forty  years 134 

SECTION   V 

THE   BERRYS   AT   HOME   AND   ON   THE   CONTINENT 
(1797- 1803) 

The  death  of  Mrs.  Darner's  half-sister,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond — 
Horace  Walpole's  illness  and  death — Mary  Berry's  account  of  his 
last  days — His  will — Mary  Berry  edits  his  collected  works — The 
Berrys  and  Mrs.  Darner  in  1798-9 — The  Hon.  Caroline  Howe — She 
is  mentioned  in  Walpole's  Letters — An  appreciation  of  her  by  Mary 
Berry — At  Strawberry  Hill — Mrs.  Darner  s  private  theatricals — The 
production  by  amateurs  of  Mary  Berry's  comedy,  Fashionable 
Friends — The  cast — Joanna  Baillie — The  play  well  received — The 
author  determines  to  secure  a  public  representation — The  second 
Viscount  Palmerston — The  Peace  of  Amiens — Mary  Berry  and  Mrs. 
Damer  visit  Paris — Berthier,  Cambace"res,  Macdonald,  Fouche, 
Massena,  Mme.  Re"camier,  Mme.  de  Stael,  &c. — Presented  to 
Madame  Buonaparte — Napoleon  Buonaparte — Fashionable  Friends 
produced  at  Drury  Lane — The  Berrys  go  abroad  in  October  1802 — 
At  Nice — The  death  of  Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury — Mme.  de 
Staremberg — Amateur  theatricals  at  The  Priory — Correspondence 
with  Lord  Hartington  and  Mrs.  Damer — The  propects  of  a  new 
war — Death  of  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater — His  will — Reported  death 
of  "Old  Q." — Sir  William  Hamilton's  estate — Bridgewater  House  .     196 

SECTION   VI 

MARY  AND   AGNES   BERRY   IN   SOCIETY  (1804-1816) 

Agnes  Berry's  engagement  to  her  cousin — It  is  broken  off — Agnes  Berry's 
illness — Miss  Kate  Perry's  appreciation  of  her — The  salon  in  Curzon 
Street — Some  frequenters — Mary  Berry  and  Sam  Rogers — "  The 
Dead  Dandy  " — The  Berrys  receive  everybody  and  go  everywhere — 
Parties  at  Tunbridge  Wells — Paul  Amsinck,  Master  of  the  Cere- 
monies— A  game  of  whist — Mary  Berry  presented  to  the  Princess 


xvi  BERRY    PAPERS 

PAGE 

of  Wales — Her  Royal  Highness  at  Strawberry  Hill — An  intimacy 
springs  up  between  the  Princess  and  Mary  Berry — The  Battle  of 
Vimiera — The  Hon.  Caroline  Howe — Lady  Charlotte  Campbell — 
Mary  Berry's  edition  of  the  letters  of  Madame  du  Deffand — The 
Rev.  Sydney  Smith— The  Rev.  G.  O.  Cambridge — Lord  Carlisle- 
Lord  Dudley — The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner — Mary  Berry  at  Wimpole, 
Christmas  1811 — Agnes  Berry  to  Mary  Berry — Lady  Charlotte 
Campbell's  letters — The  assassination  of  Spencer  Percival — The 
grief  of  the  Princess  of  Wales — The  Battle  of  Salamanca — The 
Princess  of  Wales  visits  the  Berrys  at  Tunbridge  Wells,  August  1 8 1 2 
— Little  Strawberry  Hill  leased  to  Alderman  Wood — The  Berrys  in 
London,  1812-1815 — Mary  Berry  goes  to  Paris  in  i8i6to  stay 
with  the  Hardwickes — Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Stuart — Her  corres- 
pondence with  her  sister — John  William  Ward — Lord  Rosebery — 
The  Greffulhes — Sir  Robert  Wilson's  trial — Admiral  Linois  and 
General  Boyer — Mdlle.  George — Talma — The  Duke  of  Wellington 
— Mdlle.  Duchenois — The  Due  de  Richelieu — Pozzo  di  Borgo— 
Talleyrand — Mdlle.  Mars — French  society — Henry  Luttrell — A 
letter  from  Maria  Edgeworth — Letters  from  Mary  to  Agnes  Berry  .     286 


SECTION  VII 

THE    LATER   LIFE   OF  THE   BERRYS  (1817-1852) 

The  Berrys  at  Genoa — Society  in  that  town — The  Duke  of  Devonshire — 
Lord  John  Russell — The  letters  of  Lady  Russell — The  death  of 
Lady  Glenbervie — The  death  of  Robert  Berry — Mrs.  Darner's 
tribute  to  him — The  death  of  Madame  de  Stael — Lucca  Baths — 
Professor  Playfair — Lady  Carlisle — The  death  of  Princess  Charlotte 
— Lady  Charlotte  Campbell's  second  marriage — John  Whishaw — 
The  publication  of  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Rachel,  Lady  Russell — 
The  Countess  of  Albany — Lady  Hardwicke — Lord  Colchester — The 
Berrys'  movements,  1822-5 — They  move  to  Curzon  Street — Mary 
Berry  begins  to  prepare  her  edition  of  the  correspondence  of  Horace 
Walpole — Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay — The  Comparative  View  of 
Social  Life  in  France  and  England — The  death  of  Mrs.  Damer — 
Lord  Dover — The  Reform  Bill — "The  quiet  of  gunpowder" — 
Macaulay — Richard  Westmacott,  R.A. — English  art  in  1834 — 
Charades — The  Berrys  at  Paris  in  1834 — Harriet,  Lady  Granville 
— William  Beckford's  Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal — 
Buckingham  Palace — The  Duke  of  Sutherland — The  resignation 
of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  1835 — Lord  Melbourne  again  becomes  Prime 
Minister — Lord  Jeffrey — Lord  Carlisle  on  Jesse's  George  Selwyn 
and  his  Contemporaries — Sarah  Austin — Madame  Re'camier — The 
Duchesse  de  Praslin — Chateaubriand — Stratford  Canning — The 
state  of  Europe  in  1848 — Kate  Perry — Dean  Milman — Ruskin — 
Last  years — Death  of  Agnes  Berry — Death  of  Mary  Berry — 
Epitaph 382 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 

Mary  Berry  and  Agnes  Berry.  From  miniatures  by  George 
Engleheart  in  the  Pierpont  Morgan  Collection.  From  a  photograph 
lent  by  Dr.  Williamson Frontispiece 

John  William  Ward,  First  Earl  of  Dudley.  From  a  con- 
temporary sketch  by  E.  Berens 10 

Horace  Walpole.     From  an  engraving  by  T.  Evans  after  Lawrence        14 
The  Honble.  Mrs.  Damer.    From  an  engraving  by  Hopwood  after  a 

tainting  by  G.  C. 20 

Lady  Sarah  Lennox.    From  a  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds      .      22 

Edward  Jerningham.    From  an  engraving  by  F.   Thomson  after 

Shee.    From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 26 

Lady  Duncannon.     From  an  engraving  by  Mackenzie  after  Walker 

in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 42 

Lady  Charlotte  Campbell.    From  an  engraving  by  G.    Wilkin 

after  Hoppner 50 

Mrs.  Clive's  House  at  Twickenham.  (Cliveden  or  Little 
Strawberry  Hill.)  From  an  engraving  in  the  Collection  of  A. 
M.  Broadley,  Esq.,  by  H.  S.  Storer,  from  the  original  drawing  by 
the  same  artist. 88 

Original  Drawing  for  Mrs.  Damer's   Bookplate  by  Agnes 

Berry.     Reproduced  by  kind permission  of  Mr.  Tregaskis      .        .     104 

John    Playfair,   F.R.S.     From  an  engraving  by   R.    Cooper  after 

Raeburn.     From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 132 

Mary  Berry.     From  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq.        .        .     196 

Madame  de  Stall 206 

The  Sixth  Duke  of  Devonshire.    From  an  engraving  by  Edward 

Scriven  after  G.  Hayter 258 

Mary  Berry.    From  a  contemporary  engraving  in  the  "  Town  and 

Country  Magazine"  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq.         .    286 

Samuel   Rogers.     From  an  engraving  by   C.    W.   Sherbom  after 

Hoppner  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq 288 

xvii 


xviii  BERRY    PAPERS 

FACING 
MSI 

The  Dowager  Marchioness  of  Donegal.    From  an  engraving  by 

Mackenzie  after  Craig  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq.      .    290 

Philip,  Earl  of  Hardwicke.    From  an  engraving  in  the  Collection 

of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq 310 

Mlle.  Mars.    From  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq.  .        .    322 

Mlle.  George's  in  the  Part  of  Phedre.    From  an  engraving  by 

Leroy  after  Libourd  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq.  .     324 

Talleyrand 330 

Lord  Jeffrey.    From  an  engraving  after  IV.  H.  Lizars.    From  the 

Collection  of  John  Lane \         .    410 

Richard  Westmacott.    From  an  engraving  by    Thomson  after  J. 

Derby.    From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 414 

Mrs.  Sarah  Austin.     From  a  drawing  on  stone  by  Weld  Taylor  after 

H.  P.  Briggs,  R.A 428 

Letter  from  Mary  Berry  to  Charles  Drummond.    From  the 

Original  in  the  Collection  ofA.M.  Broadley,  Esq 436 

Mary  Berry  at  the  age  of  86.     From  the   Collection   of  A.  M. 

Broadley,  Esq. 438 

Petersham  Church.     From  a  contemporary  water-colour  drawing  in 

the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq 440 


THE    BERRY    PAPERS 


THE  BERRY  PAPERS 


SECTION    I 

THE   EARLY   LIFE   OF   MARY   AND   AGNES   BERRY 
(1763-1789) 

Mary  Berry's  Notes  of  Early  Life — Her  silence  concerning  her  father's  fore- 
bears— Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe  states  that  her  maternal  grandfather 
was  a  tailor — Her  great-uncle  Ferguson's  career — His  childless  marriage 
— His  sister's  sons,  Robert  and  William,  his  natural  heirs — Robert  Berry's 
early  life — His  marriage  with  Miss  Seton  alienates  his  uncle — The  birth 
of  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry — The  death  of  Mrs.  Robert  Berry — Ferguson 
wishes  Robert  Berry  to  marry  again — His  refusal  brings  about  a  breach 
between  them — William  Berry  is  informed  that  he,  not  Robert,  will 
be  his  uncle's  heir — Mary  Berry's  life-long  bitterness  at  the  loss  of  fortune 
— Robert  Berry's  weakness  of  character — The  girls  live  with  their  grand- 
mother in  Yorkshire — Robert  Berry  rents  College  House,  Chiswick — His 
daughters'  education — Sir  George  and  Lady  Cayley — Mary  Berry's  first 
suitor — The  death  of  Ferguson — Robert  Berry's  legacy — Mary  Berry's 
dissatisfaction — a  tour  in  the  west  of  England — A  visit  to  Weymouth — 
With  the  Craufords  at  Rotterdam — A  Dutch  tour — Switzerland  and  Italy 
— An  autobiographical  passage — Florence — Sir  Horace  Mann — Turin — 
Rome — Naples — Montpellier — Paris — Return  to  England — The  Berrys 
after  their  return  from  abroad — Their  meeting  with  Horace  Walpole — 
Their  acquaintance  with  him  ripens  into  intimacy — Walpole's  account  of 
them — His  affection  for  the  sisters — He  laughs  at  the  discrepancy  in  age 
between  him  and  them — Mary  his  favourite — He  writes  his  Reminiscences 
of  the  Courts  of  George  I  and  George  II  for  their  entertainment — He 
dedicates  to  them  his  Catalogue  of  Strawberry  Hill — He  introduces  them 
to  the  Conways — Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury — Anne  Seymour  Conway — 
Her  artistic  instincts— Ceracchi's  statue  of  her  as  the  Muse  of  Sculpture 
— Her  marriage  with  the  Hon.  John  Damer — Darner's  extravagance — He 
commits  suicide — Lady  Sarah  Lennox  on  the  ill-fated  marriage — Lord 
Milton's  brutal  behaviour   to  his  daughter  in-law,   Mrs.   Damer — Mrs, 

3 


4  BERRY    PAPERS 

Damer  goes  to  her  father's  house — She  goes  abroad — She  rents  a  house 
in  Sackville  Street — Lady  Sarah  Lennox's  pen-portrait  of  her — Mrs. 
Darner's  later  life. 

IN  Mary  Berry's  Notes  of  Early  Life,  which  were 
found  among  her  papers  after  her  death,  there 
are,  strangely  enough,  no  particulars  of  her  fore- 
bears, not  even  a  passing  reference  to  her  grand- 
fathers. "  My  father  was  the  maternal  nephew  of  an  old 
Scotch  merchant  of  the  name  of  Ferguson,"  she  says, 
and  no  word  more.  The  family  history  was  thus  de- 
liberately wrapped  in  mystery,  and  nothing  was  generally 
known  of  her  antecedents  until  the  publication,  in  1888, 
of  the  correspondence  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe, 
where  light  is  thrown  upon  them  in  a  passage  in  one  of 
his  letters  to  the  Duke  of  Sutherland.  "  As  to  what  you 
tell  me  of  the  Misses  Berry,  it  is  delightful,"  he  wrote. 
"  I  had  dreamed  they  were  dead ;  but  some  time  ago, 
when  Lord  Orford's  latest  letters  were  printed,  I  visited 
a  club  of  St.  George's  Square  old  maids,  who  sub- 
scribe and  get  such  books,  and  who  refreshed  my 
memory  (the  ladies  being  all  angry  that  the  Misses 
might  have  been  Countesses)  with  a  piece  of  family 
history.  It  seems  that  the  grandfather  of  these  heroines 
was  nothing  more  than  a  tailor  at  Kircaldy,  one  of 
whose  sons  changed  his  name  to  Ferguson  for  the  estate 
of  Raith,  purchased  and  left  him  by  a  nabob,  his  mother's 
brother.  Now  the  amusing  thing  is,  to  think  of  Lord 
Orford's  horror  had  he  married  either  of  the  ladies,  and 
then  discovered  the  goose  in  the  Countess's  pedigree  ! 
He  might  have  written  a  companion  to  The  Mysterious 
Mother,  The  Mysterious  Grandfather,  and  far  more  feel- 
ingly. Imagine  the  new  Countess,  like  the  old,  an- 
nouncing her  crime  to  her  husband,  as  the  other  did  to 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY     5 

her  son  :  '  Hear,  tell,  and  tremble  !  Horace,  thou  didst 
clasp  a  tailor's  gosling ! '  The  Count  swoons  in  the 
Countess's  arms,  and  an  earthquake  shakes  all  the  baubles 
at  Strawberry  Hill  I"1  It  is,  however,  fair  to  state  that 
this  account  of  the  humble  origin  of  one  side  of  her 
family  finds  corroboration  only  in  the  silence  of  Mary 
Berry.  And  even  here  there  is  a  contradiction,  for 
Miss  Berry  says  it  was  her  father's  uncle  who  changed 
his  name,  and  Sharpe  that  it  was  her  uncle.  It  is  more 
than  probable  that  the  lady  was  right. 

Ferguson  came  to  London  in  1709,  and  set  up  as 
a  merchant.  He  proved  himself  so  good  a  man  of 
business,  that  long  before  his  death  his  fortune  was 
computed  at  £300,000,  an  immense  sum  in  those  days. 
His  wealth,  however,  did  not  induce  him  to  retire  from 
mercantile  pursuits ;  and  though  he  possessed  a  con- 
siderable estate  at  Raith,  in  Fifeshire — whether  acquired 
by  inheritance  or  purchase  is  not  germane  to  this  story 
— he  remained  faithful  to  Broad  Street  in  the  City  of 
London,  and  died  in  the  dwelling-house  over  his  offices. 
He  had  married  a  Miss  Townshend,2  but  there  was  no 
issue  of  this  union,  so  that  his  natural  heirs  were  the 
two  sons  of  his  sister,  who  had  married  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Berry. 

These  sons  were  Robert  and  William  Berry.  Robert 
was  educated  for  the  bar,  but  before  taking  up  his  pro- 
fession he  travelled  for  some  time  on  the  Continent — 

1  C.  K.  Sharpe,  Letters,  II.  550.  Concerning  the  alleged  proposal  of 
marriage  by  Walpole,  see  vol.  i.  of  that  work. 

8  Miss  Townshend  was  a  sister  of  Joseph  Townshend,  M.P.  for  Westbury, 
Wiltshire.  Townshend's  other  sister  married  James  Oswald  (1715-1769),  who 
was  educated  at  Kirkcaldy  Grammar  School,  where  Ferguson  made  his 
acquaintance.  Oswald  succeeded  his  father  as  M.P.  for  Kirkcaldy  Burghs, 
and  held  office  at  the  Board  of  Trade  and  the  Treasury.  It  was  at  his  house 
that  Ferguson  met  his  future  wife. 


6  BERRY    PAPERS 

indeed  until  he  was  recalled  to  England  by  his  uncle,  a 
command  he  perforce  obeyed,  since  he  was  entirely 
dependent  upon  him.  "The  law  he  seems  never  to 
have  thought  of  more ;  nor  was  it  thought  necessary 
that  he  should,"  his  elder  daughter  wrote.  "  But  in  all 
other  respects  I  can  easily  suppose  his  careless  disposi- 
tion, even  to  his  own  situation,  his  turn  towards  litera- 
ture and  literary  society,  little  suited  the  hard,  narrow 
mind  of  the  man  on  whom  his  fortunes  depended." x 
It  is  clear  that  Robert,  who  is  known  to  have  been  a  weak 
man,  was  unhappily  possessed  of  just  those  qualities 
which  would  alienate  a  hard-headed  man  of  business  ; 
but  there  was  as  yet,  however,  no  overt  breach  between 
uncle  and  nephew,  merely  an  ever-increasing  want  of 
sympathy  and  understanding.  In  1762  Robert  married 
a  young  girl  of  eighteen,  Miss  Seton,  a  distant  cousin,2 
who  had,  her  eldest  daughter  says,  "  every  qualification, 
beside  beauty,  that  could  charm,  captivate,  or  attach, 
and  excuse  a  want  of  fortune."  It  was  just  this  want 
of  fortune  that  further  restrained  the  relation  between 
uncle  and  nephew.  Ferguson  did  not  dislike  his  niece 
by  marriage,  but  he  was  bitterly  disappointed  when  she 
gave  birth  to  two  daughters — Mary,  on  March  16,  1763, 
and  Agnes  on  May  29,  1764.  He  ardently  desired  a 
male  heir  to  his  fortune,  but,  so  far  as  Robert  was  con- 
cerned, he  was  doomed  to  failure,  for  in  1767  Mrs. 
Berry  died  in  giving  birth  to  a  third  child,  which  did 
not  survive   its   mother.     "  I    have  been    told   that   his 

1  Mary  Berry,  Notes  of  Early  Life. 

1  She  was  daughter  of  John  Seton  of  the  very  ancient  Scottish  family  of 
Seton  of  Arbroath  by  his  wife  Elizabeth  (ne'e  Seton  of  Belsies).  Among  their 
children  were:  Margaret,  married  1760  Andrew  Seton;  Isabella,  Lady 
Cayley  of  High  Hall;  Elizabeth,  who  married  in  1762  Robert  Berry;  and 
Jane,  married  in  1770  Walter  Symnot  of  Balleymoyer,  Knight,  in  the  north  of 
Ireland. 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  7 

uncle  was  very  importunate  with  my  father  to  marry 
again  directly,"  Mary  Berry  has  recorded.  "If  so,  I 
am  sure  my  father  must  have  finally  destroyed  his  pros- 
pects from  him,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  would  have 
received  such  a  proposal  immediately  after  the  untimely 
death  of  a  beloved  wife  of  three-and-twenty,  after  four 
years'  marriage." 

While  Robert  Berry  was  falling  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  bad  books  of  his  uncle,  his  younger  brother, 
William,  was  becoming  more  and  more  a  favourite. 
He  showed  himself  a  good  man  of  business  ;  he  married 
a  well-dowered  daughter  of  the  house  of  Crauford,  and 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  have  two  sons  in  the  first  two 
years  of  his  marriage.  Mary  Berry  declares  that  William 
deliberately  intrigued  to  oust  his  brother  from  his  in- 
heritance. "He  soon  perceived,"  she  said,  "the  care- 
lessness of  his  elder  brother's  character,  and  how  little 
it  fell  in,  in  any  respect,  with  that  of  the  old  man,  and 
how  easily  he  could  assimilate  himself  to  all  his  views." 
Whether  William  did  endeavour  to  oust  his  elder 
brother  from  his  uncle's  inheritance,  it  is  not  possible 
now  to  say ;  but  it  is  not  surprising  that  a  self-made 
man,  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  any  man,  should  prefer 
to  entrust  a  great  fortune  to  a  reliable  rather  than  a 
shiftless  nephew.  Mary  Berry,  of  course,  could  not 
be  expected  to  see  the  matter  in  this  light,  and  it  did 
not  apparently  occur  to  her  that  her  father,  on  learning 
that  he  was  not  to  be  the  heir,  might  have  endeavoured 
to  do  something  to  provide  for  the  present  welfare  and 
the  future  provision  of  his  daughters. 

It  was  not  until  1769,  when  Mary  Berry  was  six 
years  old,  that  Ferguson  announced  that,  while  he 
would   continue   Robert's   allowance  of    ^300   a  year, 


8  BERRY    PAPERS 

he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  younger  brother 
William  should  be  his  heir.  "That  my  father,"  Mary 
Berry  wrote  years  afterwards,  "should  have  allowed 
himself  to  be  thus  choused  out  of  a  great  inheritance, 
by  a  brother  who  had  not  a  sentiment  or  feeling  in 
common  with  him,  and  by  an  uncle  whom  he  had 
never  offended,  and  in  whose  society  he  continued  to 
spend  three  days  of  every  week,  while  his  brother 
was  living  in  ease,  indulgence,  and  luxury  at  Raith, 
and  only  making  a  yearly  visit  of  a  couple  of  months 
to  the  melancholy  residence  of  Austin  Friars, — that 
the  easy  temper  of  my  father  should  have  silently 
acquiesced  in  all  this  ;  that  he  should  not  have  seen 
the  character,  and  obviated  the  conduct,  of  his  brother 
before  it  was  too  late,  during  all  the  youth  and  middle 
of  my  life  sorely  afflicted  me."  In  later  life  Mary  Berry 
still  took  her  loss  of  fortune  hard,  and  in  her  Journals 
and  Correspondence  she  often  refers  to  her  father, 
"whose  hereditary  neglect  of  fortune  has  deprived 
us  of  what  might,  and  ought  to  have  been,  our  own," 1 
and  to  "that  brother  who  robbed  him  of  everything 
but  the  peace  of  mind  attendant  upon  a  guileless  con- 
science." 2  Such  irritation  was  not  unnatural,  but  as  it 
was  the  inherent  weakness  of  her  father's  character  that 
led  to  his  being  disinherited,  how  could  he  have  done 
anything  to  prevent  the  catastrophe  ?  It  is  true  that 
a  high-spirited  man  might  have  shaken  off  the  dust 
of  his  uncle's  house,  declined  the  income  allowed  him, 
and  earned  his  own  living ;  but  Robert  Berry  was  not 
such  a  man.  Indeed,  had  he  been  such,  there  would 
not  have  been  any  necessity  for  such  heroic  measures, 
for,  in  that  case,  his  uncle  would  not  have  passed  him 

1  Mary  Berry,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  377.  2  Ibid.,  i.  384. 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  9 

over.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mary  Berry  replies  to  her- 
self, when  she  refers  to  her  father's  "easy,  inefficient 
character." 

The  children,  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry,  lived  where 
they  were  born,  at  Kirkbridge  Stan  wick,  Yorkshire, 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Seton,  their  maternal  grandmother, 
until  the  elder  was  seven,  when,  with  Mrs.  Seton,  they 
went  to  College  House,  Chiswick,  which  Robert  Berry 
had  rented.  Here  they  were  put  in  the  charge  of  a 
governess,  who  went  away  in  1775  to  get  married,  after 
which,  so  far  as  education  was  concerned,  they  were 
left  to  their  own  devices.  The  result,  naturally  enough, 
was  not  satisfactory.  "You  have  probably  not  seen 
Mme.  du  Deffand's  letters,  which  Miss  Berry  has  just 
published.  The  preface  is  amusing  enough  and  sensible, 
but  ill  written,  particularly  in  those  pages  which  she 
probably  thought  most  shining,"1  John  William  Ward 
(afterwards  first  Earl  of  Dudley)  wrote  to  Mrs.  Dugald 
Stewart,  June  1810 ;  and  two  or  three  months  later, 
addressing  the  same  correspondent,  he  reverted  to 
the  subject :  "  Some  months  ago  I  read  a  little  of 
Miss  Berry's  book.  I  thought  the  preface  very  badly 
done.  It  is  very  odd  that  she  should  have  lived 
so  much  with  people  of  fashion  without  acquiring 
better  manners,  and  so  much  with  people  of  talent 
without  learning  to  write  her  own  language  tolerably. 
I  am  sorry  for  it,  for  I  think  much  more  favourably  of 
her  than  those  will  do  who  judge  by  her  writings.  She 
has  good  talents,  and  is  besides  friendly,  honest,  and 
sincere ;  but  she  has  a  loud,  harsh  voice,  and  is  un- 
acquainted with  grammar." 2  Mary  Berry  attributed 
the   defects   in   her   education  to  Ferguson  letting  her 

1  Letters  to  Ivy,  116.  2  Ibid.  118. 


io  BERRY    PAPERS 

father  "  starve  on  an  allowance  of  £300  a  year,"  but  the 
fault  was  clearly  that  of  her  father,  who  even  on  that 
small  income — and  its  purchasing  power  was  then  much 
greater  than  now — might  certainly,  at  the  price  of  some 
small  sacrifice  of  comfort,  have  spared  the  wages  of  a 
governess.  Mrs.  Seton,  who  still  lived  with  them,  did, 
however,  impart  to  them  such  religious  instruction  as 
they  could  derive  from  reading  aloud  to  her  every 
morning  the  psalms  and  chapters,  and  on  Sundays 
a  Saturday  Spectator.  The  girls'  life  was  not  so  monoton- 
ous as  it  might  have  been,  for  there  are  references 
to  visits  to  Sir  George  and  Lady  Cayley,1  to  the  Love- 
days  at  Caversham,  to  Miss  Drury  in  Yorkshire,  and  to 
the  Mitchells  in  Berkshire  ;  while,  in  1779,  Mary  had 
love-passages  with  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Bowman. 
"Suffered,"  she  commented  subsequently,  "as  people 
do  at  sixteen  from  a  passion  which,  wisely  disapproved 
of,  I  resisted  and  dropped." 

Ferguson,  who  had  attained  to  the  patriarchal  age  of 
ninety-three,  died  in  November  1781,  and,  as  he  had 
already  announced,  left  the  bulk  of  his  estate  to  William 
Berry.  To  Robert  he  left  a  capital  sum  of  £10,000; 
and  this  William  supplemented  by  settling  on  his 
brother  an  annuity  of  £1000  a  year.  It  is  worthy  of 
mention  that  Mary  Berry's  anger  against  her  uncle  did 
not  lead  her  to  advise  her  father  to  show  his  disgust 
by  refusing  to  accept  the  annuity.  Her  grievances  were  : 
first,  that  the  sum  was  too  small,  and  second,  that  it  was 
for  her  father's  life  and  not  extended  to  his  daughters. 
Robert   Berry  was  now  passing  rich  on  about  fifteen 

1  Sir  George  Cayley,  Bart.,  of  Brompton  in  Yorkshire  (i 707-1 791),  whose 
eldest  son,  Thomas  (1732-1792),  had  married  in  1763  Isabella  Seton,  a  sister 
of  Robert  Berry's  wife.  There  were  two  other  Seton  girls,  Jane  and  Mary, 
but  of  their  later  life  nothing  has  been  recorded. 


r  ■  i 
1 1 


JOHN   WILLIAM    WARD,    1ST    KARL   OK    DUDLEY 
Sketch  by  E.  Berens,  Oriel  College,  Aug.  iq 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  n 

hundred  a  year,  and  in  1782,  Mrs.  Seton  going  to  live 
with  her  daughter  Isabella,  he  took  his  girls  on  a  tour 
in  the  west  of  England,  and,  later,  stayed  a  while  with 
them  at  Weymouth,  then  a  tiny  watering-place  brought 
into  fashion  by  a  visit  paid  two  years  earlier  by  the 
King's  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester. 

In  May  of  the  following  year  the  Berrys  went  further 
afield.  First  they  visited  at  Rotterdam  a  branch  of  that 
Crauford  family  into  which  William  Berry  had  married, 
and  then,  with  them,  made  a  tour  of  Holland.  From 
Holland  they  went  south  to  Switzerland  and  Italy,  and 
those  who  will  may  read  of  their  wanderings  in  the 
Journals  which,  completed  seventy  years  later,  Mary 
Berry  began  on  these  travels  at  Florence.  The  most 
interesting  of  the  entries  in  her  Notes  of  Early  Life, 
which  now  gave  way  to  the  Journals,  is  the  following 
autobiographical  passage : — 

"At  Florence  was  our  first  stop;  and  here  for  the 
first  time  I  began  to  feel  my  situation,  and  how  entirely 
dependent  I  was  on  my  own  resources  for  my  conduct, 
respectability,  and  success.  My  father,  with  the  odd 
inherent  easiness  of  his  character,  had  since  my  mother's 
death  entirely  abandoned  the  world  and  all  his  early 
acquaintance  in  it,  entirely  forgetting  that  on  him  now 
depended  the  success  and  the  happiness  of  his  two 
motherless  daughters.  I  soon  found  that  I  had  to  lead 
those  who  ought  to  have  led  me ;  that  I  must  be  a 
protecting  mother,  instead  of  a  gay  companion  to  my 
sister  ;  and  to  my  father  a  guide  and  monitor,  instead  of 
finding  in  him  a  tutor  and  protector.  Strongly  im- 
pressed as  I  was  that  honour,  truth,  and  virtue  were  the 
only  roads  to  happiness,  and  that  the  love  and  con- 
sideration of  my   fellow-creatures,  and  the   society  in 


12  BERRY    PAPERS 

which  I  was  to  live,  depended  entirely  upon  my  own 
conduct  and  exertions,  the  whole  powers  of  ray  mind 
were  devoted  to  doing  always  what  I  thought  right  and 
knew  would  be  safe,  without  a  consideration  of  what  I 
knew  would  be  agreeable,  while  I  had  at  the  same  time 
the  most  lively  sense  of  everything  that  was  brilliant 
and  distinguished,  and  the  greatest  desire  to  distinguish 
myself.  Add  to  this,  the  most  painfully  quick  feelings, 
and  a  necessity  for  the  support  of  some  kind  sympathis- 
ing mind,  and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  how  little  I  could 
profit  by  all  the  advantages  nature  had  given  me,  but 
how  little  I  could  have  enjoyed  of  the  thoughtless  gaiety 
and  light-heartedness  of  youth."  * 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1783  that  they  were  at 
Florence,  where  they  made  the  acquaintance  of  Sir 
Horace  Mann,  who  had  been  at  that  court  since 
1740,  in  which  year  Horace  Walpole  visited  him,  and 
cemented  the  friendship  that  found  its  vent  in  a  corres- 
pondence that  was  kept  up  until  the  death  of  Mann, 
forty-six  years  later.  They  roamed  at  will  through 
Italy :  at  Turin  meeting  Thomas  Pitt  and  Sir  James 
Graham  ; 2  at  Rome  (on  New  Year's  Day,  1784)  being 
presented  to  the  Pope  at  Naples  ;  on  the  last  day  of 
January,  going  to  the  Court  of  Caroline,  wife  of 
Ferdinand  IV,  and  daughter  of  the  Emperor  Francis 
Joseph  II  and  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa.  They 
spent  the  winter  of  1784-5  at  the  famous  health-resort 
of  Montpellier,  and  were  at  Paris  from  March  until 
June,  in  which  month  they  returned  to  England. 

After  their  return  from  the  Continent  in  June  1785, 

1  Notes  of  Early  Life  {Miss  Berry s  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  12). 
*  Sir  James  Graham,  Bart.,  of  Netherby,  father  of  the  statesman,  Sir  James 
Robert  Graham  (1792-1861). 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY     13 

there  is  for  a  while  nothing  of  importance  to  relate  of 
the  Berrys.  They  stayed  in  London,  they  went  into 
the  country,  they  visited  their  friends,  they  extended 
the  circle  of  their  acquaintances,  and  they  became 
popular  in  the  set  in  which  they  moved — this  is  their 
history  from  the  time  they  landed  in  England  until 
October  1788,  in  which  month  they  met  Horace 
Walpole.  There  are  a  few  certain  avenues  to  fame. 
"To  have  your  name  mentioned  by  Gibbon,  is  like 
having  it  written  on  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,"  Thackeray 
wrote,  "  Pilgrims  from  all  the  world  admire  and  behold 
it."  If  the  historian  ignored  you,  you  could  still  attain 
something  of  immortality  if  you  were  enshrined  by 
Boswell  as  a  friend  of  Dr.  Johnson,  or  if  you  figured 
among  the  correspondents  of  Horace  Walpole.  Many 
who  would  long  since  have  sunk  into  oblivion  survive 
until  to-day  in  the  pages  of  the  greatest  biographer  or 
the  greatest  letter-writer  that  the  world  has  ever  known. 
This,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  the  lot  of  Mary  and  Agnes 
Berry.  But  for  their  friendship  with  Horace  Walpole, 
they  would  be  but  names  to  the  present  generation.  As 
it  is,  they  live  for  all  time  in  the  fierce  light  cast  by  the 
great  man  upon  all  whom  he  deigned  to  honour  with 
his  notice. 

It  was  at  the  house  of  Lady  Herries,  wife  of  the 
banker  in  St.  James's  Street,  that,  in  the  winter  of  1787-8 
the  acquaintance  began.  In  the  summer  of  1788  the 
Berrys  rented  a  house  at  Twickenham  Common,  and 
the  acquaintanceship  ripened  rapidly  into  intimacy. 
The  story  of  the  beginning  of  the  historic  friendship  has 
been  recorded  by  Walpole  in  a  letter  to  Lady  Ossory, 
dated  October  n,  1788  : — 

u  If   I  have  picked  up  no  recent  anecdotes  on  our 


i4  BERRY    PAPERS 

Common,  I  have  made  a  much  more,  to  me,  precious 
acquisition.  It  is  the  acquaintance  of  two  young  ladies 
of  the  name  of  Berry,  whom  I  first  saw  last  winter,  and 
who  accidentally  took  a  house  here  with  their  father  for 
this  season.  Their  story  is  singular  enough  to  entertain 
you.  The  grandfather,  a  Scot,  had  a  large  estate  in  his 
own  country,  ^5000  a  year  it  is  said  ;  and  a  circum- 
stance I  shall  tell  you  makes  it  probable.  The  eldest 
son  married  for  love  a  woman  with  no  fortune.  The 
old  man  was  enraged  and  would  not  see  him.  The  wife 
died  and  left  these  two  young  ladies.  Their  grandfather 
wished  for  an  heir-male,  and  pressed  the  widower  to  re- 
marry, but  could  not  prevail,  the  son  declaring  that  he 
would  consecrate  himself  to  his  daughters  and  their 
education.  The  old  man  did  not  break  with  him  again, 
but  much  worse,  totally  disinherited  him  and  left  all  to 
his  second  son,  who  very  handsomely  gave  up  ^800  a 
year  to  his  elder  brother.1  Mr.  Berry  has  since  carried 
his  daughters  for  two  or  three  years  to  France  and  Italy, 
and  they  are  returned  the  best-informed  and  the  most 
perfect  creatures  I  ever  saw  at  their  age.  They  are  ex- 
ceedingly sensible,  entirely  natural  and  unaffected,  frank, 
and  being  qualified  to  talk  on  any  subject,  nothing  is  so 
easy  and  agreeable  as  their  conversation,  nor  more 
apposite  than  their  answers  and  observations.  The 
eldest,  I  discovered  by  chance,  understands  Latin,  and 
is  a  perfect  Frenchwoman  in  her  language.  The 
younger  draws  charmingly,  and  has  copied  admirably 
Lady  Di's  gipsies,2  which  I  lent,  though  for  the  first  time 
of  her  attempting  colours.  They  are  of  pleasing  figures  ; 
Mary,  the  eldest,  sweet,  with  fine  dark  eyes,  that   are 

1  It  will  be  observed  that  this  account  is  not  strictly  accurate  in  details. 
*  Lady  Diana  Beauclerk  (1 734-1 808),  amateur  artist. 


ffi  ^iMt 


': 


W 


T.  Lawrence,  R.A. 


HORACE   WALPQI.E,    EARL   OF   ORFORD 


T.  Evans,  sculpt. 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY     15 

very  lively  when  she  speaks,  with  a  symmetry  of  face 
that  is  the  more  interesting  from  being  pale  ;  Agnes,  the 
younger,  has  an  agreeable  sensible  countenance,  hardly 
to  be  called  handsome,  but  almost.  She  is  less  animated 
than  Mary,  but  seems,  out  of  deference  to  her  sister  to 
speak  seldomer,  for  they  dote  on  each  other,  and  Mary 
is  always  praising  her  sister's  talents.  I  must  even  tell 
you  they  dress  within  the  bounds  of  fashion,  though 
fashionably ;  but  without  the  excrescences  and  balconies 
with  which  modern  hoydens  overwhelm  and  barricade 
their  persons.  In  short,  good  sense,  information,  sim- 
plicity, and  ease  characterise  the  Berrys ;  and  this  is  not 
particularly  mine,  who  am  apt  to  be  prejudiced,  but  the 
universal  voice  of  all  who  know  them.  The  first  night  I 
met  them  I  would  not  be  acquainted  with  them,  having 
heard  so  much  in  their  praise  that  I  concluded  they 
would  be  all  pretension.  The  second  time,  in  a  very 
small  company,  I  sat  next  to  Mary,  and  found  her  an 
angel  both  inside  and  out.  Now  I  do  not  know  which  I 
like  best,  except  Mary's  face,  which  is  formed  for  a  senti- 
mental novel,  but  is  ten  times  fitter  for  a  fifty  times 
better  thing,  genteel  comedy.  This  delightful  family 
comes  to  me  almost  every  Sunday  evening,  as  our  region 
is  too  proclamatory  to  play  at  cards  on  the  seventh  day. 
I  do  not  care  a  straw  for  cards,  but  I  do  disapprove  of 
this  partiality  to  the  youngest  child  of  the  week  ;  while 
the  other  six  poor  days  are  treated  as  if  they  had  no 
souls  to  save.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Berry  is  a 
little  merry  man  with  a  round  face,  and  you  would  not 
suspect  him  of  so  much  feeling  and  attachment."  1 

Horace   Walpole,  then  in  his  seventy-second  year, 
was  devoted  to   these  young  women,  aged  twenty-five 

1  Horace  Walpole,  Letters  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  152. 


16  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  twenty-four  respectively.  For  them  he  had  a  greater 
tenderness  than  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  he  had 
ever  lavished  upon  anyone  else.  He  called  them  his 
"  twin-wives,"  or  "  my  beloved  spouses  " ;  when  they  were 
away  he  referred  to  his  "  disconsolate  widowhood,"  and 
he  signed  himself  "  Horace  Fondlewives."  Mary  was  to 
him  "Suavissima  Maria,"  Agnes  "my  sweet  lamb." 
But  while  he  used  these  affectionate  terms,  he  did  not 
refrain  from  laughing  at  himself.  "  I  am  afraid  of  pro- 
testing how  much  I  delight  in  your  society,  lest  I  should 
seem  to  affect  being  gallant,"  he  wrote  to  his  "  dear 
both,"  in  February  1789  ;  "  but  if  two  negatives  make  an 
affirmative,  why  may  not  two  ridicules  compose  one 
piece  of  sense  ?  and  therefore,  as  I  am  in  love  with  you 
both,  I  trust  it  is  a  proof  of  the  good  sense  of  your 
devoted  H.  Walpole."1  And  again,  "Though  you  do 
not  accuse  me,  but  say  a  thousand  kind  things  to  me  in 
the  most  agreeable  manner,  I  allow  my  ancientry,  and 
that  I  am  an  old,  jealous  and  peevish  husband,  and 
quarrel  with  you  if  I  do  not  receive  a  letter  exactly  at 
the  moment  I  please  to  expect  one."2  Yet  one  more 
extract  from  his  letters.  "  I  passed  so  many  evenings  of 
the  last  fortnight  with  you,"  he  wrote  on  June  23,  1789, 
"  that  I  almost  preferred  it  to  our  two  honeymoons,  and 
consequently  am  the  more  sensible  to  the  deprivation  ; 
and  how  dismal  was  Sunday  evening,  compared  to  those 
of  last  autumn  !  If  you  both  felt  as  I  do,  we  might 
surpass  any  event  in  the  annals  of  Dunmow.  Oh  !  what 
a  prodigy  it  would  be  if  a  husband  and  two  wives  should 
present  themselves  and  demand  the  flitch  of  bacon,  on 
swearing  that  not  one  of  the  three  in  a  year  and  a  day 

1  Walpole,  Letters  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  164, 

2  Ibid.,  ix.  200. 


r 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  17 

wished  to  be  unmarried.  For  my  part,  I  know  that  my 
affection  has  done  nothing  but  increase ;  though  were 
there  but  one  of  you,  I  should  be  ashamed  of  being  so 
strongly  attached  at  my  age  ;  being  in  love  with  both,  I 
glory  in  my  passion,  and  think  it  a  proof  of  my  sense. 
Why  should  not  two  affirmatives  make  a  negative,  as  well 
as  the  reverse  ?  and  then  a  double  love  will  be  wisdom — 
for  what  is  wisdom  in  reality  but  a  negative  ?  It  exists 
but  by  correcting  folly,  and  when  it  has  peevishly  pre- 
vailed on  us  to  abstain  from  something  we  have  a  mind 
to,  it  gives  itself  airs,  and  in  action  pretends  to  be  a 
personage,  a  nonentity  sets  up  for  a  figure  of  importance  ! 
It  is  the  case  of  most  of  those  phantoms  called  virtues, 
which,  by  smothering  poor  vices,  claim  a  reward  as 
thief-takers.  Do  you  know  I  have  a  partiality  for 
drunkenness,  though  I  never  practised  it :  it  is  a  reality, 
but  what  is  sobriety,  only  the  absence  of  drunkenness. 
However,  mes  cheres  fetntnes,  I  make  a  difference  between 
men  and  women,  and  do  not  extend  my  doctrine  to  your 
sex.  Everything  is  excusable  in  us,  and  nothing  in  you. 
And  pray,  remember  that  I  will  not  lose  my  flitch  of 
bacon — though." x 

Though  it  is  clear  that  Mary  was  his  favourite,  he 
was  also  attached  to  Agnes,  and  was  at  pains  not  to  show 
any  preference.  "  But  now  I  must  talk  of  family 
affairs,"  he  wrote  to  them  on  June  30,  1789.  "I  am 
delighted  that  my  next  letter  is  to  come  from  wife  the 
second.  I  love  her  as  much  as  you,  and  I  am  sure  you 
like  that  I  should.  I  should  not  love  either  so  much,  if 
your  affection  for  each  other  were  not  so  mutual ;  I 
observe  and  watch  all  your  ways  and  doings,  and  the 
more  I  observe  you,  the  more  virtues  I  discover  in  both 

1  Mary  Berry,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  164. 


i8  BERRY    PAPERS 

— nay,  depend  upon  it,  if  1  discover  a  fault,  you  shall 
hear  of  it.  You  came  too  perfect  into  my  hands,  to  let 
you  be  spoilt  by  indulgence.  All  the  world  admires  you, 
yet  you  have  contracted  no  vanity,  advertised  no  pre- 
tensions, are  simple  and  good  as  nature  made  you,  in 
spite  of  all  your  improvements — mind,  you  and  yours  are 
always,  from  my  lips  and  pen,  of  what  grammarians  call 
the  common  of  two}  and  signify  both — so  I  shall  repeat 
that  memorandum  no  more."  x  For  them  he  wrote  his 
Reminiscences  of  the  Courts  of  George  I  and  George  I/,2 
and  to  them  he  dedicated  the  famous  Catalogue  of 
Strawberry  Hill?  When  they  were  away  he  sent  them 
delightful  letters,  such  as  only  he  could  write,  full  of 
news  and  gossip,  and  foreign  affairs  and  home  chat,  and 
would  not  listen  to  a  word  of  thanks.  u  I  have  received 
at  once  most  kind  letters  from  you  both ;  too  kind,  for 
you  both  talk  of  gratitude,"  he  protested.  "  Mercy  on 
me !  Which  is  the  obliged,  and  which  is  the  gainer  ? 
Two  charming  beings,  whom  everybody  likes  and 
approves,  and  yet  can  be  pleased  with  the  company  and 
conversation  and  old  stories  of  a  Methusalem  ?  or  I,  who 
at  the  end  of  my  days  have  fallen  into  more  agreeable 
society  than  ever  I  knew  at  any  period  of  my  life  ?  "  4 

To  Horace  Walpole  the  Berrys  owed  many  acquaint- 
ances, and  he  it  was  who  introduced  them  to  his  inti- 
mate friends,  the  Conways.  "  I  hope  you  are  not 
engaged  this  day  seven-night,"  he  wrote  to  the  sisters 
on  March  20,  1789  ;  "but  will  allow  me  to  wait  on  you 

1  Mary  Berry,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  168. 

*  Walpole   began   these   "Reminiscences"   on   October   31,    1788,    and 
finished  them  on  the  following  January  13. 

3  The  Catalogue  of  Strawberry  Hill  was  privately  printed  at  the  end  of 
1789. 

*  Mary  Berry ,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  180. 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  19 

to  Lady  Aylesbury,  which  I  will  settle  with  her  when  I 
have  your  answer." 1  Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury,  daughter 
of  the  fourth  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  widow  of  Charles 
Bruce,  Earl  of  Aylesbury  and  Elgin,  had  in  1747  married 
Colonel  (afterwards  Field-marshal)  the  Hon.  Henry 
Seymour  Conway.  By  her  first  marriage,  Lady  Ayles- 
bury had  a  daughter,  Lady  Mary  Bruce,  who  in  1758 
married  Charles,  third  Duke  of  Richmond ;  and  by 
her  second  marriage  another  daughter,  Anne  Seymour 
Conway,  born  in  1748. 

Anne  Seymour  Conway  became,  as  Mrs.  Darner, 
Mary  Berry's  dearest  friend,  and  plays  so  large  a  part 
in  the  following  pages  that  she  demands  more  than  a 
passing  reference.  Brought  up  under  the  eye  of  her 
parents  at  their  town-house  and  their  country-seat,  Park 
Place,  near  Henley-on-Thames,  she  had  the  advantage 
of  meeting  the  members  of  the  brilliant  circle  that 
surrounded  her  mother.  At  an  early  age  she  became 
acquainted  with  Gray,  Thomson,  Shenstone,  David 
Hume,  Reynolds,  Angelica  Kauffmann,  the  Garricks,  Miss 
Farren,  and  Mrs.  Siddons.  Such  company  excited  the 
artistic  instincts  which  she  inherited  from  her  mother, 
who  did  everything  in  her  power  to  develop  them.  The 
girl  learned  sculpture  under  John  Bacon,  and  anatomy 
from  William  Cruikshank.  Later  she  worked  under 
Giuseppe  Ceracchi,  who  subsequently  carved  the  statue 
of  her  as  the  Muse  of  Sculpture  which  now  stands  in 
the  entrance  hall  of  the  British  Museum.  Pretty  and 
agreeable,  she  attracted  much  attention  when  she  came 
out,  and  in  1767  there  were  rumours  of  a  matrimonial 
alliance  with  Henry  Scott,  third  Duke  Buccleuch  and 
fifth  Duke  of  Queensberry ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  on 

1  Walpole,  Correspondence  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  176. 


20  BERRY    PAPERS 

June  14  of  that  year  she  married  the  Hon.  John  Darner, 
eldest  son  of  Joseph  Darner,  Baron  Milton  (afterwards 
Earl  of  Dorchester).  Conway  was  delighted  with  the 
marriage,  for  Damer  was  heir  to  his  father's  income  of 
.£30,000  a  year.  He  settled  .£10,000,  the  whole  of  his 
fortune,  upon  his  daughter,  and  the  bridegroom  made 
settlements  to  the  value  of  ^22,000.  The  newly  wed 
couple  started  with  an  income  of  ^5000  a  year,  and 
their  prospects  appeared  brilliant,  for  not  only  were  they 
rich,  but  also  young  and  handsome  and  popular.  All 
that  was  wanting — and  this  was  not  generally  known  at 
the  time — was  affection.  The  union  was  disastrous. 
Damer  was  a  spendthrift — at  a  forced  sale  his  wardrobe 
realised  ^15,000 — and  within  nine  years  of  his  marriage 
had  incurred  debts  to  a  vast  amount,  which  Conway 
could  not,  and  Lord  Milton  would  not,  discharge.  In 
the  worst  of  company,  Damer  shot  himself  on  August 
15,  1776,  at  the  Bedford  Arms,  Covent  Garden.  If  the 
married  life  of  Mrs.  Damer  was  unhappy,  the  first 
months  of  her  widowhood,  we  learn  from  Lady  Sarah 
Lennox,  were  even  more  wretched. 

"  Was  you  not  surprised  at  poor  Mr.  Darner's  death  ?  " 
Lady  Sarah  wrote  to  Lady  Susan  O'Brien,  September  19. 
"  I  had  no  idea  he  was  maddish  even,  and  in  my  mind 
he  has  proved  that  he  was  quite  mad,  for  I  cannot 
account  for  his  death  and  the  manner  of  it  any  other 
way.1  I  am  provoked  at  Lord  Milton,  for  I  was  throw- 
ing away  my  pity  upon  him,  and  behold  !  not  even  the 
death  of  his  son  has  soften'd  him  about  his  family  in 
general,  or  taught  him  generosity.  He  has  been  very 
shabby  about   Lionel   Damer,  very   unkind  to   George 

1  At  the  inquest  on  the   Hon.  John  Damer,  a  verdict  of  lunacy  was 
returned. 


THE    HON  HI. K.    MRS.    DAMER 
From  an  engraving  by  Hojmiood  after  a  painting  by  G.  C. 


EARLY  LIFE  OF  MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  21 

Darner,1  and  quite  brutal  to  Mrs.  Darner,  who,  by  the 
by,  behaves  with  all  the  propriety  in  the  world ;  when 
one  commends  a  widow  for  behaving  well,  it  is  allowing 
that  love  was  out  of  the  question,  which  is  to  be  sure 
her  case.  .  .  .  Lord  Milton  has  taken  her  diamonds, 
furniture,  carriages,  and  everything  away  to  pay  the 
debts  with,  and  he  abused  her  for  staying  in  another 
man's  house  (for  she  stay'd  a  few  days  there  before  she 
went  to  the  country,  and  the  house  is  another's,  being 
seiz'd).  Upon  hearing  this,  she  left  it,  and  chose  to  go 
in  a  hackney  coach,  taking  only  her  inkstand,  a  few 
books,  her  dog,  and  her  maid  with  her,  out  of  that  fine 
house.  I  think  it  was  spirited  and  noble  in  her;  she 
had  but  three  guineas  in  her  pocket,  which  was  to  last 
her  till  Michaelmas,  for  Lord  Milton  did  not  offer  her 
any  assistance.  Her  sister,2  as  you  may  imagine, 
attended  her  and  gave  her  money,  and  she  went  to  Mr. 
Conway's  house ; 8  she  is  to  live  with  him  for  a  year  in 
order  to  save  one  year's  income  (^2500),  which  she  gives 
towards  the  payment  of  Mr.  Darner's  just  debts,  which 
cannot  be  quite  paid  by  the  sale  of  everything  even."  4 

Subsequently  Mrs.  Damer  went  abroad  for  a  while, 
and  on  her  return  in  1778  took  a  house  in  Sackville 
Street,  and  devoted  herself  to  her  art.  Again  it  is  Lady 
Sarah  Lennox  who  presents  us  with  a  pen-portrait  of 
her  at  this  time.  "  Mrs.  Damer  does  not  live  with  her 
mother,  but  in  a  house  she  has  hired,"  Lady  Sarah 
wrote  to  Lady  Susan  O'Brien,  November  23,  1778. 
u  She  set  off  upon  the  most  perfect  intentions  of  pru- 

1  Lionel  and  George  Damer  were  sons  of  Lord  Milton,  created  in  1792 
Earl  of  Dorchester. 

*  Her  half-sister,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

3  Her  father,  General  the  Hon.  Henry  Seymour  Conway. 

4  Life  and  Letters  of  Lady  Sarah  Lennox,  i.  250. 


22  BERRY    PAPERS 

dence  ;  she  was  not  ashamed  of  saying,  '  she  had  been 
rich  and  was  now  poor,'  and  therefore  she  should  not 
attempt  any  expense  beyond  her  income,  which  is  very 
good  for  all  the  comforts  of  life,  tho'  not  for  magnific- 
ence, and  she  piqued  herself  upon  showing  that  she 
could  give  up  her  former  expectations  of  grandeur  with 
philosophy.  She  likes  travelling,  books,  and  a  comfort- 
able home,  both  in  town  and  (for  a  little  while),  in  the 
country,  and  these  she  prefers  to  fine  clothes,  fine 
equipages,  and  finery  of  all  kinds.  How  long  these 
wise  resolutions  will  last  I  can't  tell,  for  she  is  vain, 
and  likes  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  great  world,  and  is 
easily  led  into  that  style  of  life.  Upon  the  whole,  I 
think  she  is  a  sensible  woman  without  sensibility,  a 
pretty  one  without  pleasing,  a  prudent  one  without 
conduct,  and  I  believe  nobody  will  have  a  right  to  tax 
her  with  any  fault,  and  yet  she  will  be  abused,  which 
I  take  to  be  owing  to  a  want  of  sweetness  in  her  disposi- 
tion ;  she  is  too  strictly  right  even  to  be  beloved.  As 
for  the  abuse  she  has  met  with,  I  must  put  such  nonsense 
out  of  the  question,  and  in  everything  else  her  conduct 
is  very  proper." 1  Concerning  the  abuse  to  which  Mrs. 
Darner  was  subjected,  something  of  this  will  be  gathered 
from  her  letters,  presently  to  be  printed.  Her  life  was 
henceforth  divided  between  her  work,  her  visits  to  her 
parents  at  Park  Place,  to  her  sister  at  Goodwood,  and 
her  journeys  abroad. 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Lady  Sarah  Lennox,  i.  286. 


LADY   SARAH    LENNOX 
From  a  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 


SECTION    II 
THE  BERRYS  ABROAD  {October  1790  to  November  1791) 

Mary  Berry's  Memoranda  for  1 790-1 — The  sisters  correspond  regularly  with 
Horace  Walpole — His  letters — His  affection  for  them — His  longing  for 
their  company — He  refuses  their  offer  to  return — His  jealousy  of  their 
friends — Unpublished  correspondence  of  Mrs.  Damer  and  Mary  Berry — 
The  Berrys  depart  for  Italy — Mrs.  Darner's  devotion  to  Mary  Berry — Dr. 
George  Fordyce — M.  and  Mme.  de  Boufflers — Edward  Jerningham,  "the 
charming  man  " — Lady  Melbourne — Mrs.  Damer  winters  abroad — Lady 
Elizabeth  Foster — Mrs.  Cholmeley — General  Charles  O'Hara — The  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Richmond — Lady  Bristol — Giardini — Richard  Cosway — 
The  Countess  of  Albany,  wife  of  "  The  Young  Pretender" — An  accident 
to  Mary  Berry — Her  ill-health — The  rivalry  between  the  French  and 
English  captains  of  passenger- vessels  at  Calais — Burke's  Reflections  on 
the  Revolution  in  France — Horace  Walpole's  jealousy — Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Hervey — Mrs.  Buller — Cicero's  Letters — Lucan — Lady  Aylesbury — Mrs. 
Darner's  studio — She  falls  from  the  scaffold — Protestations  of  friendship 
— Lady  Duncannon — Mrs.  Damer  slandered  in  the  newspapers — William 
Combe  expresses  his  desire  to  apologise  for  his  statements — Lady  Mount 
Edgcumbe — Mrs.  Darner's  statue  of  George  III — The  fate  of  the  French 
Royal  family — Lady  Mary  Churchill — Walpole's  indignation  that  the 
Countess  of  Albany  does  not  recognise  the  Berrys'  name — The  Countess 
of  Albany  and  Alfieri — Lady  Frederick  Campbell — Lady  Craven — 
Walpole  suffers  from  rheumatism — Foolish  paragraphs  in  the  World — 
Edward  Topham — Mrs.  Damer  at  Felpham — Horace  Walpole  desires  the 
Berrys  to  live  at  Cleveden  after  their  return  to  England — The  Countess  of 
Albany  proposes  to  visit  Scotland — Lord  Frederick  Campbell — Mrs. 
Damer  and  her  mother — Madame  de  Cambis — Walpole's  anxiety  about 
the  Berrys  returning  via  France — His  appeal  to  them  to  alter  their 
projected  route — Field-Marshal  Conway — German  inns — The  Berrys' 
carriage  breaks  down  near  Bologna. 

THE  entry  for   1790  in  Mary  Berry's  memo- 
randum-book   runs :     "  Summer    for    three 
weeks  in    Montpelier  Row.     Go   abroad   in 
October  ;  winter  in  Florence  and  Pisa  "  ;  and 
that  for  the   following  year  :     "  After  winter  between 


24  BERRY    PAPERS 

Florence  and  Pisa,  return  home  in  November,  take 
possession  of  little  Strawberry  Hill."  During  the  time 
they  were  away  Horace  Walpole  maintained  a  regular 
correspondence  with  the  sisters,  sending  them  lengthy, 
entertaining  letters  such  as  only  he  could  write,  full 
of  gossip,  social  and  political  matters  at  home,  and 
foreign  affairs,  interrupted  only  every  now  and  then 
by  expressions  of  his  unalterable  affection  for  them  and 
his  longing  for  their  return.  Yet  he  was  not  selfish 
where  they  were  concerned,  and  when  he  was  ill  and 
they  volunteered  to  come  to  him,  he  would  not  entertain 
the  suggestion.  He  was,  however,  undisguisedly  jealous 
of  their  liking  for  anyone  else,  and  resented  the  regular 
interchange  of  letters  between  Mrs.  Darner  and  the 
elder  sister.  The  letters  of  Walpole  are  well-known, 
and  will,  therefore,  not  be  given  here  ;  but  the  letters 
from  Mrs.  Damer  are  now  printed  for  the  first  time. 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer  to  Mary  Berry 

Sunday  Evening,  October  10,  1790.1 

I  have  been  for  some  time  with  my  paper,  pens,  and 
ink  before  me,  wishing  to  write  you  a  few  lines,  but 
quite  unable.  Do  not,  from  this  beginning,  fear  the 
style  of  some  former  letters.  No,  no,  my  gratitude  to 
you,  setting  all  other  considerations  apart,  will  shew 
itself  by  unremitted  attention  to  everything  you  have 
said  to  me.  I  have  not,  it  is  true,  been  accustomed 
to  the  charm  of  real  friendship,  but  my  own  heart  has 
taught  me  its  value.  Rest  assured  that,  could  you  know 
to  what  degree  you  contribute  to  the  comfort,  even  the 
repose,  of  my  mind,  your  utmost  good  nature  would  be 
more  than  satisfied.     My  heart  is  full,  yet  I  may  com- 

1  The  Berrys  left  London  for  the  Continent  on  this  day. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  25 

paratively  say  that  1  am  composed.  I  have,  at  last, 
spoken  to  you  on  one  miserable  subject.  I  felt  every 
day  more  and  more  that  I  owed  this  to  you,  every  day 
more  and  more  that  I  owed  to  you  that  you  should  know 
me,  see  me  not  only  as  I  am,  but  as  I  have  been,  and 
then  judge  for  yourself.  From  you,  as  from  a  superior 
being,  I  was  sure  of  candour  and  mercy,  but  unequal 
to  explain  thoroughly  those  circumstances  which  tend 
to  excuse,  tho'  nothing  can  defend,  me.  You  are 
sensible  what  I  must  suffer,  with  everything  that'  most 
interests  me,  everything  that  most  deserves  to  interest 
me,  at  stake.  Thank  you  for  your  note  this  morning, 
thank  you.  I  am  glad  that  my  servant  was  of  use. 
With  how  much  pleasure  could  I  have  assisted  and  seen 
you  once  again.  Alas  !  alas !  what  a  world  we  live  in. 
I  have  only  seen  Linie  to-day :  he  is  so  good  natured, 
and  accustomed  to  find  the  mercury  here  at  a  low  ebb, 
that  I  let  him  come.  Thank  Heaven !  there  is  not  a 
creature  in  town  that  I  am  any  way  obliged  to  receive 
to-day.  And  indeed  I  want  a  little  time  to  arrange  my 
melancholy  thoughts  into  a  lasting  order.  For  the 
present,  farewell. 

Monday  nth. — I  could  not  write  any  longer 
to  you  last  night.  My  spirits  were  oppressed 
and  my  head  grew  confused.  I  took  a  few  drops  of 
laudanum,  possibly  without  necessity,  and  sleeped 
quietly.  I  shall  go  to  see  Mr.  Walpole  the  moment  I 
am  able,  which,  from  what  Fordyce  *  says  to-day,  may,  I 
hope,  be  in  a  few  days.  I  shall  give  you  an  account  of 
him — a  true  one,  at  least,  on  that  you  may  depend. 
The  weather  is  miserably  cold,  and  you  perhaps  at  this 
moment,  are  tossing  in  a  ship  ;  that,  or  uncomfortably 
waiting  for  a  wind,  I  am  certain  of.  How  I  long  to 
hear  of  your  health,  your  spirits :  of  yourself,  be  most 
particular,  I  do  entreat  of  you.     Write  to  me  at  different 

1  George  Fordyce,  M.D.,  F.R.S.  (i 736-1802),  one  of  the  most  eminent 
physicians  of  his  day. 


26  BERRY    PAPERS 

times.  Should  you  even  send  your  letters  but  seldom,  I 
would  not  have  you  change  your  address.  I  cannot 
venture  that,  till  I  am  actually  going,  or  till  I  have  made 
every  enquiry  on  the  subject ;  and,  indeed,  till  my  leg  is 
healed  I  can  answer  for  nothing  as  to  time.  This 
Fordyce  told  me  this  morning,  tho'  he  believes,  from  the 
present  appearance,  that  it  will  be  soon  well.  I  was  out 
a  little  this  morning,  I  then  saw  the  Boufflers  :  they 
were  low,  which  suited  me  and  Jerningham,1  to  whom, 
for  the  first  time,  I  mentioned  my  intention  of  going  to 
Lisbon.  He  had  complained  of  the  headache ;  then, 
putting  up  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  he  said,  u  I  think 
you  have  cured  my  headache."  Poor  Jerningham. 
This  evening  I  shall  indulge  myself  in  remaining  quiet, 
see  no  soul,  unless,  perhaps,  Lady  Melbourne2  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  who  returned  to-day  from  the 
country.  My  father  and  mother  came  again  to  town,  I 
conclude  only  for  a  few  days.  Let  me  assure  you,  my 
dear  friend,  that  the  impression  of  all  you  have  said  to 
me  will  be  for  ever  joined  to  that  your  kindness  has 
made  on  me.  If  you  think  that  I  can  say  more,  you 
wrong  me  much. 

Tuesday,  12th  Oct. — I  received  yesterday  Mr. 
Walpole's  letter  for  you,  which  I  send  to  the  Post  with 
this.  My  next  I  shall  address  to  Turin.  The  day  is 
blowing  and  cloudy,  and  how  the  wind  sounds  to  my 
ears  you  may  think.  Farewell,  farewell,  say  everything 
that  is  kind  from  me  to  your  sister.     Take  care  of  your- 

1  Edward  Jerningham  (1727-1812),  third  son  of  Sir  George  Jerningham 
of  Costessey,  Norfolk.  He  was  brought  up  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  and 
educated  at  Douay  and  Paris.  He  lived  abroad  until  1761,  when  he  returned 
to  England,  and  became  a  Protestant.  "The  charming  man,"  he  was  styled 
by  his  intimate  friend,  Horace  Walpole,  and  the  title  clung  to  him.  He  was 
the  author  of  innumerable  verses  and  plays,  all  now  forgotten,  a  fate  they 
richly  deserved. 

*  Elizabeth,  only  daughter  of  Sir  Ralph  Millebank,  Bart.,  of  Halnaby, 
Yorkshire,  the  wife  of  Peniston,  first  Viscount  Melbourne  (1748-1819). 
Lady  Melbourne  was  born  in  1749  and  died  in  1818. 


EDWARD  JERNINGHAM 
Front  an  engraving  by  /•'.  Thomson  after  Slice.     From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  27 

self,  and  think  of  me  with  pity.     Once  more,  farewell, 
and  God  in  Heaven  bless  you.1 

Mrs.  Darner  left  England  on  November  21,  and  went 
to  Lisbon,  where  she  remained  until  March.  She  spent 
some  weeks  at  Granada,  and  returned  to  London  early 
in  May.  Her  letters  to  Mary  Berry,  written  from 
abroad,  have  not  been  traced. 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Monday  Evening,  May  16,  1791. 

I  have  been  teazed  and  tired  to  death  with  the 
number  of  persons  coming  to  see  me.  However  flatter- 
ing this  impressement,  to  have  the  plague  of  popularity 
and  load  of  abuse  is  hard.  All  Saturday  I  had  not,  in 
the  morning,  a  moment  to  myself.  The  list  would  be 
too  large  to  give  you.  In  the  evening  I  saw  that  my 
mother  had  set  her  heart  upon  carrying  me  to  the 
Pantheon  Opera.  I  therefore  gave  up  seeing  Mrs.  Siddons, 
who  acted  for  the  last  time  this  season,  where  I  had  the 
offer  of  a  place  above  from  Lady  E.  Foster.2  Arrived 
at  the  theatre,  and  placed  in  the  box,  after  a  time,  on 
turning  my  head,  close  to  my  right  shoulder  I  saw  your 
friend  Mrs.  C[holmeley].3  In  an  instant  a  thousand 
ideas  crowded  into  my  mind,  or  rather  one,  sufficient  to 
occupy  both  my  head  and  my  heart.  I  cannot  express 
the  feeling  this  gave  me.  My  teeth,  I  assure  you,  were 
but  auxiliaries.  I  see,  tho'  at  a  distance,  that  you  keep 
your  friends  admirably  disciplined.  Mrs.  C[holmeley] 
not  only  answered  me  in   the   most  obliging  manner, 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  2. 

2  A  daughter  of  Frederick  Augustus  Hervey,  fourth  Earl  of  Bristol 
(1730- 1 803),  married  to  John  Thomas  Foster.  In  1809  she  married,  secondly 
William,  fifth  Duke  of  Devonshire.     She  died  March  30,  1824. 

3  Mrs.  Cholmeley,  a  sister  of  Sir  Harry  Englefield,  and  the  wife  of  Francis 
Cholmeley,  of  Brandsby,  Yorkshire. 


28  BERRY    PAPERS 

but  immediately  began  talking  of  you.  She  is,  I  find, 
just  of  the  same  opinion  as  Mr.  W[alpole]  and  your  most 
humble  servant,  as  to  your  face.  She  said  that  she 
could  not,  by  any  means,  feel  the  sort  of  philosophy 
you  expressed  on  the  subject.  We  continued,  from 
time  to  time,  conversing  during  the  whole  course  of  the 
opera,  with  much  satisfaction  on  my  side,— I  wish  I 
could  think  it  was  the  same  on  hers.  She  inquired  after 
Mr.  Wfalpole]  and  said  that  you  had  desired  her  to  go 
and  see  him,  but  that  she  had  not  courage.  I  took  upon 
me  to  do  the  honours  of  him,  and  said  how  glad  I  was 
sure  he  would  be,  that  /  would  bring  him  to  wait  upon 
her,  if  she  would  allow  me.  If  this  was  too  free  and 
impertinent,  you  must  answer  for  it.  My  F[ather]  and 
Mother  came  home  with  me,  where  we  found  G[eneral] 
O'Hara1  and  him.  He  was,  as  you  may  suppose,  pleased 
with  what  I  told  him,  and  we  agreed  to  go  together  to 
wait  upon  your  friend.  Yesterday  he  went  to  Straw- 
berry [Hill]  (only,  however,  till  Monday) ;  my  Father 
and  Mother  to  P[ark]  Place,  till  Wednesday  ;  my  sister 2 
and  the  D[uke]  of  R[ichmon]d,  I  know  not  when  they 
come.  My  neighbours  are  also  in  the  country.  Yester- 
day they  came  for  a  few  hours  to  see  me,  and  returned. 
In  the  evening,  I  made  some  visits,  went  to  a  pri- 
vate concert  at  Lady  Bristol's,3  where  I  heard  Lady  Em's 
daughter  sing  most  admirably,  with  a  fine  voice  that 
might  fill  a  theatre,  and  Giardini,  the  only  earthly 
violin[ist],  play.  After  that,  I  supped  with  Thalia.  I  give 
you  my  history,  as  you  desire.  You  know  my  mother's 
hours  at  night.  The  first  days  of  my  arrival  so  differ- 
ently passed.  So  much  talking,  so  much  hurry,  is 
almost  too   much  for  me.     I  trust,  at  least,  for  more 

1  An  account  of  General  O'Hara  is  given  later.    See  p.  134. 

1  Strictly,  Mrs.  Darner's  half-sister,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

*  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Sir  Jermyn  Davers,  and  sister  and  heiress  of  Sir 
Charles  Davers,  Bart.,  married  in  1752  Frederick  Augustus  Hervey,  fourth 
Earl  of  Bristol  (1730-1803).    She  died  in  December  1800. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  29 

quiet  soon.  This  morning  I  did  get  downstairs  to  my 
study  and  up  upon  my  scaffold.  The  crowd  something 
subsided,  and  there  I  feel  it  less.  You  must  know  that 
my  portrait,  in  any  way  you  will  accept  of  it,  is  at  your 
service.  Why  should  you  call  it  a  favour,  with  the 
original  at  your  disposal  ?  Tell  me  but  the  size,  the 
style,  or  any  thing  in  my  power  to  make  it  most  what 
you  like,  I  shall  have  a  particular  pleasure  in  doing  it. 
I  can  make  it  as  small  as  you  please.  I  always  thought 
that  portrait  Mrs.  C[holmeley]  as  very  fine,  better  far, 
most  certainly,  than  I  ever  was ;  but  that  portraits 
should  be  better  where  they  so  easyly  can,  particularly, 
where  they  can  not,  as  well.  The  dress  I  dislike,  and 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  picture,  but  to  preter  ma 
figure,  or  it  would  have  been  otherwise.  She  desired 
me  to  sit  down  when  I  was  there  one  day,  and  Cosway  x 
painted  the  portrait  at  his  leisure  hours.  This  being 
the  case,  I  thought  I  had  no  right  to  interfere. 

Wednesday  morning. — I  received  your  letter  of  the 
3rd  May  yesterday  evening — a  letter  written  so  much 
from  your  heart,  more,  it  seemed  to  me,  even  than 
usually,  without  reserve, — gave  me  a  degree  of  satisfac- 
tion I  cannot  express,  but  made  me  very  unfit  for  the 
task  of  being  civil  and  agreeable  to  the  Comtesse 
d' Albany,2  whom  I  was  to  carry  to  a  stupid  performance 

1  Richard  Cosway  (1740- 1821),  the  fashionable  portrait  -  painter  of 
his  day. 

2  Louisa  Maximiliana  Carolina  Emanuel  ( 1 7 5  3- 1 824),  daughter  of  Gustavus 
Adolphus,  Prince  of  Stolberg-Gedern,  was  in  1772  married  to  Charles  Edward, 
"  The  Young  Pretender,"  who  at  Rome,  where  he  resided,  was  called  the  Count 
of  Albany.  After  living  miserably  with  her  husband  for  eight  years,  she  left 
him,  and  lived  openly  with  Vittorio  Alfieri,  the  poet  (1749-1803).  It  was 
said  that  there  had  been  a  secret  marriage,  but  this  was  not  the  case.  The 
illicit  union  was,  however,  generally  accepted,  and  the  Princess  was  received 
at  Court  when  she  came  to  this  country  at  the  outbreak  of  the  French 
Revolution.  She  was,  by  her  grandmother  Lady  Charlotte  Bruce,  Princess 
de  Homes,  connected  with  the  family  of  Bruce,  was  a  great-niece  of  Lady 
Aylesbury,  and  a  cousin  of  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  who  was  Mrs.  Darner's 
half-sister.     Horace  Walpole  called  her  the  "  Pinchbeck  Queen  of  England." 


3° 


BERRY    PAPERS 


at  the  Haymarket,  for  which  I  was  to  prepare  before 
I  was  myself  prepared. 

If  you  do  not  like  my  "  opinion  "  concerning  the  sub- 
ject of  my  poor  dog,  I  as  little  like  your  regrets  for 
what  you  said  to  me  (I  thought  most  kindly)  about 
your  health,  and  about  your  fall.  This  is  fine  encourage- 
ment for  me  to  talk  of  myself.  Enough  of  that,  and 
a  full  account  of  the  remainder  of  the  time  I  passed  at 
Madrid,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  will  have  found  in  subse- 
quent letters. 

As  for  your  horrid  fall,1  I  shall  be  much  disappointed 
if  you  do  not  think  that  I  have  been  extremely  reasonable 
and  composed  on  the  subject,  which  is  entirely  owing  to 
you.  Had  I  heard  of  this  accident  slightly  from  you, 
and  as  I  did  from  others,  what  must  I  have  thought  ? 
Only  put  yourself  in  my  situation  for  one  moment  and 
consider  how  j/ou  would  have  felt,  and  you  will  applaud 
yourself  for  having  saved  me  so  much  pain.  As  to  "  no 
visible  mark,"  I  should  indeed  pity  Mr.  W[alpole]  if  he 
was  destined  not  [to]  see  you  till  then.  I  have  a  cut 
across  my  nose,  done  with  a  glass  mug  when  I  was  two 
years  old.  The  scar  has  been,  as  it  now  is,  since  I  can 
remember,  but  would  be  of  no  consequence  to  a  better 
face.  You  will  not  cease  to  talk  to  me  of  your  health, 
when  you  do  talk  to  me,  or  to  treat  me  with  confidence. 
I  have  given  you  no  reason,  and  without  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  repent.  Without  anxiety  you  do  not,  I  hope, 
wish  me.  I  must  be  stupid  not  to  see  the  delicacy  of 
your  constitution,  insensible  to  be  at  ease  on  the  subject. 

1  Miss  Berry,  when  walking,  had  fallen  down  a  bank  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Pisa. 

"Oh  !  what  a  shocking  accident !  Oh  !  how  I  detest  your  going  abroad 
more  than  I  have  done  yet  in  my  crossest  mood  !  You  escaped  the  storm  on 
the  ioth  of  October,  that  gave  me  such  an  alarm  ;  you  passed  unhurt  through 
the  cannibals  of  France  and  their  republic  of  larrons  and  poissardes,  who 
terrified  me  sufficiently  ;  but  I  never  expected  that  you  would  dash  yourself  to 
pieces  at  Pisa !  "—Horace  Walpole  to  Mary  Berry,  April  3,  1791  (Letters, 
ed.  Cunningham,  ix.  301). 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  31 

I  can  only  repeat  that  the  more  particular  you  are  the 
more  kind  I  shall  think  you.  Not  a  word  have  I  said  to 
Mr.  W[alpole],  not  a  word  shall  I  say,  of  your  milk  diet. 
Heaven  grant  that  it  may  answer  ! 

Friday  evening. — I  shall  not  send  this  till  Tuesday,  as 
I  know  that  Mr.  W[alpole]  writes  to-day.  Of  public  events 
he  will  give  you  an  account  and  of  Mrs.  Cholmeley's 
visit  to  him  this  morning,  to  which  this  will  afterwards 
be  a  key  your  quickness  will  not  want.  I  had  received  a 
note  from  her  saying  that  she  wished  I  would  carry  her 
to  him  at  my  time.  I  chose  the  soonest.  To-morrow 
she  is  so  good  as  to  accept  of  a  place  in  my  box  at  the 
Pantheon.  I  trust  that  this  is  not  a  contre  cour,  out  of 
obedience  to  you.  It  may  be  :  it  is  the  best  reason  she 
can  have.  I  am  going  to  Mr.  W[alpole]  this  evening, 
soon  after  seven,  then,  after  having  made  a  visit,  I  shall 
carry  him  to  sup  at  my  Mother's,  who  seems  to  be  early, 
where  we  shall  only  have  the  charming  man}  I  wish 
you  had  seen  him  tell  me  that  he  was  going  out  of  town 
for  a  fortnight,  on  Monday.  He  felt  ashamed,  after  all 
his  professions,  just  on  my  arrival  and  was  so  long  in 
the  birth  of  this  event  that  people  came  in  before  I 
could  guess  where  he  was  going.  What  an  odd 
creature !  Livie  I  have  seen  just  for  one  moment ; 
when,  or  if  at  all  constantly  he  will  come  to  me,  I  know 
not.  That  he  wishes  it  I  am  convinced,  but  I  am  quite 
melancholy  about  my  Greek,  of  which  I  certainly  have 
lost  all.  I  shall  go  out  of  the  world  without  knowing 
it,  I  fear.  I  rejoyce  that  you  have  found  means  to 
employ  your  time  so  well.  I  have  not  been  so  fortunate. 
Portugese  and  Spanish,  which  I  can  read  imperfectly, 
are  scarcely  worth  putting  on  the  list  of  acquisitions,  and 
by  Livie's  actually  having  taken  from  me  the  Greek  verbs 
in  my  own  hand,  according  to  his  arrangement,  almost 
a  year  passed  to  have  them  printed,  I  rather  lose 
ground,  and  what  is  worse,  spirit.     Farewell. 

1  Edward  Jerningham.     See  ante,  p.  26. 


32  BERRY    PAPERS 


Tuesday,  May  24/A. 

!  missed  seeing  Mr.  Walpole  yesterday  evening,  after 
his  return  from  Strawberry  [Hill],  by  his  going  out  early. 
That  I  might  write  to  you  "particularly"  of  what  I 
am  "  sure  you  like  to  know,"  I  layed  down  my  chisel 
this  morning  at  eleven,  and  sallyed  forth  to  him.  He 
looked  well,  but  seemed  discomposed,  at  having  heard 
the  night  before  from  Miss  Cambridge1  that  she  had 
had  a  letter  from  your  sister  in  which  she  said  that  she 
was  well,  but  that  she  did  not  think  you  so.  I  am 
convinced  that  you  tell  me  what  you  think  of  yourself, 
but  it  is  plain  that  those  who  love  you  judge  differently 
of  your  health,  and,  indeed,  tho'  when  you  wrote  last 
to  me,  you  might  be  better,  by  the  following  post  you 
might  be  less  well.  Your  weather  too  is  changed  ;  I 
feared  it  would.  If  the  fine  spring  has  deserted  you, 
it  is  not  for  this  Island.  Here  the  weather  has  been 
cold,  dark  and  windy  since  I  came,  but,  as  yet,  I  have 
been  no  farther  affected  by  it  than  feeling  uncomfort- 
able. Mr.  W[alpole]  showed  me  your  letter,  by  which 
I  am  to  hope  that  next  post  I  shall  hear  from  you, 
"  tko' "  you  have  not  had  a  letter  from  me  since  (illegible). 
I  knew  you  had  not.  Alas !  if  I  had  not  been  afraid  of 
my  letters  coming  to  you  too  often,  you  never  would 
have  expected  them.  In  the  uncertainty  of  Posts  and 
times,  I  endeavoured  through  my  whole  journey  to 
keep  on  the  side  I  least  wished.  You  will  perhaps 
one  day  thoroughly  know  me,  but  it  will  be  a  day  too 
late.  Do  not  think  I  doubt  your  kindness,  or  your 
opinion  of  me,  without  which  that  kindness  could  not 
exist. — Farewell.2 


1  Presumably  a  daughter  of  Pochard  Owen  Cambridge. 
*  Add.  MSS.,  37727,  f- 4- 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  33 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Friday  Morning,  May  27,  1791. 

I  was  not  in  spirits  when  I  ended  my  letter  to  you 
last,  and  God  knows  !  have  not  much  to  brag  of  since, 
whatever  I  may  appear  to  others.  I  almost  wished  my 
letter  back,  yet  I  trust  that  you  will  not  misunderstand 
me.  When  I  complain,  it  refers  to  anything  on  earth 
but  yourself:  of  that  you  must  be  convinced,  or  think 
me  most  ungrateful.  Mr.  W[alpole]  seems  less  uneasy 
about  what  he  heard  from  Mr.  Cambridge1  than  I 
expected.  He  depends  on  your  youth  ;  and  the  certainty 
he  feels  of  your  return,  with  the  flattering  prospect  of 
enjoying  your  society,  makes  it  not  easy  to  put  him 
out  of  spirits  ;  that  I,  for  the  pleasure  of  indulging  my 
own  melancholy  ideas,  do  not  try,  you  will  believe. 

Saturday  morning. — Your  friend  Mrs.  C[holmeley] 
called  upon  [me]  one  morning,  I  think  it  was  Wednesday : 
I  was  alone  at  my  work.  I  wished  her  to  have  stayed 
longer.  The  expressions  of  good  sense  from  an  un- 
warped  mind  have  a  charm  to  which  I  think  I  grow 
every  day  more  sensible.  You  could  not  choose  ill  tho' 
you  may  somewhat  relax  with  those  who  choose  you.  It 
is  not  because  she  is  your  friend  that  I  say  it,  but  I  have 
long  had  a  high  opinion  of  her,  from  things  I  heard 
from  Lady  C.  formerly,  and  I  remember  that,  tho' 
personally  I  hardly  knew  her,  I  used  to  be  pleased 
when  my  opinion  agreed  with  hers  on  subjects  Lady 
C.  often  talked  over  to  me  about  herself,  and  I 
felt  interested  from  an  incident  which,  if  the  story  was 
truly  represented  to  me,  will  cast  a  melancholy  over 
her  life.     For  deep  impressions  are  not  to  be  effaced, 

1  Richard  Owen  Cambridge  (1 717-1802),  the  poet,  whose  acquaintance 
the  Berrys  had  made  at  Twickenham,  where  he  had  lived  since  175 1.  A 
friend  of  Horace  Walpole,  he  soon  became  intimate  with  the  Berrys,  and  was 
a  constant  correspondent  of  the  elder  sister. 

C 


34  BERRY    PAPERS 

but  it  is  the  mind  that  decides  of  the  impressions — 
hence  many  mistakes.  Her  manner  to  me  is  open, 
more  than  civil,  almost  kind.  She  offered  to  come  and 
sit  with  me,  if  I  stayed  at  home  some  evening,  an  offer 
I  shall  not  neglect.  I  now  am  all  the  morning,  and 
indeed  part  of  the  evening,  as  the  days  are  long,  settled 
at  my  work,  the  turba  nominum  less,  tho'  often  greater 
than  I  wish.  I  did  not  tell  you  that  the  first  thing  I 
saw,  and  flew  to  in  my  rooms,  on  my  arrival,  was  the 
Muff  I  had  so  much  regretted. 

Saturday  evening. — I  was  in  hopes,  by  what  you  said 
in  Mr.  W[alpole]'s  letter,  to  have  heard  from  you  to-day, 
but  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  post,  or  your  time 
should  fail.  I  shall  ever  thank  you  for  a  kind  intention. 
My  sister  and  the  D[uke]  of  Richmond]  came  to  town 
last  Monday.  She  received  me  with  that  infinite  good 
nature  which  is  her  characteristic,  and  he  with  that 
invariable  kindness  and  affection  which  I  have  ever 
experienced  from  him.  When  I  can  see  his  faults,  you 
should  not  call  me  "blind"  or  "near-sighted" — I  do  not 
believe  that  I  am  so.  I  see  faults,  but  I  adore  virtues. 
Consider  how  very  few  opportunities  I  have  had  of 
talking  freely  to  you,  and  how  little,  even  with  constant 
writing,  can,  in  quantity,  be  said  by  letter.  I  may  have 
hoped iov  good  qualities  in  those  I  liked,  but  I  do  protest  to 
you  that  it  scarcely  ever  happened  to  me  to  feel  quite  sure 
of  them,  where  they  did  not  really  exist.  Livie  came  to 
me  yesterday  morning.  He  has  much  comforted  me 
about  my  Greek,  by  seeming  satisfied,  for  I  know  that 
he  is  all  sincerity,  and  brought  me  my  verbs  printed, 
and  almost  complete.  He  inquired  after  you  and  ap- 
peared rejoiced  to  hear  that  you  had  been  improving 
your  time.  He  says,  "we  must  take  care,  or  she  will 
grow  too  strong  for  us." 

I  hope  that  I  told  you  all  I  could  tell  you  about 
Paris.  The  dispute  among  the  Captains  at  Calais, 
[illegible]  told  me,  the  night  I  landed  at  Dover,  that  he 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  35 

thought  by  a  letter  which  he  had  received  from  thence, 
would  be  soon  settled  ;  from  the  manifest  disadvantage  it 
is  of  to  Calais  I  think  it  probable,  as  all  the  Packets,  the 
one  which  carries  the  mail  excepted,  now  go  to  Boulogne. 
I  shall  take  care  and  inquire  when  it  grows  near  the 
time,  that  it  may  interest  you,  and  let  you  know  particu- 
larly. At  present  the  common  passage  is  from  Boulogne 
to  Dover,  and  one  day  a  French  Captain,  one  an  English, 
so  that  one  must  wait,  or  time  it  exactly,  and  not  choose 
one's  captain  out  of  his  turn,  as  formerly.  But  all  this, 
I  think,  cannot  last,  as  it  will  not  answer  to  the  French 
captains.  They  are  not  in  the  same  repute,  even  with 
those  of  their  own  country,  as  the  English,  and  will  only 
be  taken  when  the  others  are  not  in  the  way,  do  what 
they  will. 

I  must  say  a  word  on  Burke's  book,1  lest  you 
should  suspect  my  taste,  and  fifty  times  have  I  been 
going  to  mention  the  subject,  before  you  mentioned  it 
to  me.  When  I  left  London  my  Bookseller  let  me  have 
it  before  it  was  regularly  come  out,  that  I  might  take  it 
with  me.  I  admired  it  so  much  that,  when  I  got  to 
Lisbon,  my  first  thought  was  to  send  it  you,  thinking 
that  you  would  not  have  it  so  soon  any  other  way,  and  I 
might  have  done  so  by  the  courier,  but  my  second  thought, 
which  cost  me  a  heavy  sigh,  was  that  it  was  better  not. 
To  do  the  book  full  justice,  it  is  not  necessary  to  agree 
with  it  in  all  points.  To  say  nothing  of  its  eloquence,  it 
has  that  merit  in  a  sovereign  degree  without  which  no 
book  can  thoroughly  charm  me,  that  of  making  me  love 
the  author.  His  ideas  on  religion  I  did  really  take 
notice  of,  as  being  finely  expressed.  As  to  mine  on  that 
subject,  no  thinking  being  can  disapprove  them  ;  what 
consolation  in  particular  I  might  derive,  I  know  not 
precisely,  or  if  you  think  me  too  much  attached  to  this 
world,  but  I  feel  that  there  is  greater  danger   of   my 

1  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France,  which  was  published  November  i , 
1790. 


36  BERRY    PAPERS 

being  too  little  so  at  times,  which  is  not  right,  at  least,  to 
encourage  in  oneself. 

I  did  not  find  much  essential  damage  in  my  study, 
only  everything  moved,  which  has  cost  me  time.  My 
dog  was  not  hurt ;  one  scratch  of  an  Erinnys,  a  little 
terra-cotta  figure  you  may  remember  was  broken,  which 
I  regret.  I,  however,  have  most  of  the  pieces.  /  feel 
your  not  going  to  Rome,  where  I  wish  the  very  streets 
were  not  common  to  all.  I  have  a  veneration  for  the 
place,  and  feel  grateful  to  any  that  has  ever  afforded  me 
any  degree  of  health  and  quiet. — Farewell. 

Sunday  night. — I  have  been  all  day,  as  usual,  at 
work,  and  this  evening  quietly  alone,  which  I  find 
sometimes  really  necessary.  I  shall  only  go  after  for 
an  hour  to  R[ichmon]d  House,  without  even  dressing. 
I  shall  leave  a  corner,  to  tell  you  how  Mr.  W[alpole] 
looks,  as  this  will  only  go  on  Tuesday,  and  I  am  to  see 
him  to-morrow,  after  his  return  from  Strawberry  [Hill], 
and  to  carry  him  to  my  mother's,  who  has  a  party  for 
the  Comtesse  d'Albanie.  She  is  very  pleasant,  perfectly 
easy,  and  not  just  in  the  common  style.  I  have  seen 
her  several  times  since  I  came.  She  was  very  civil  to 
me  (the  last  time  I  was  at  Paris,  I  mean,  not  now), 
which,  de  mon  mieux,  I  always  wish  to  return,  but  for 
my  amabilite,  I  doubt  if  you  will  find  me  improved.  It 
is,  as  you  observe,  with  me,  an  exotic  which  I  fear  the 
cold  blasts  of  England  will  destroy  long  before  I 
see  you. 

Tuesday  Morning,  May  31. 

I  cannot  resist  making  this  a  double  letter,  that  I 
may  thank  you  at  my  ease,  for  yours  of  the  17th, 
which  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  yesterday 
evening.  I  had  been  out  early  to  look  at  Cosway's 
pictures,  which  he  is  disposing  of.  At  my  return  I 
found  your  letter.  Yet  you  do  not  mention  your 
health,  when  you  even  have  nothing  to  say  on  the 
subject,  hoc  tantum  rescribe,  for  I  cannot  deny  to  you 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  37 

that  it  is  a  subject  of  constant  uneasiness  and  anxiety 
to  me.  I  went  with  my  letter,  to  B[erkeley]  Square,1 
meaning  to  go  up  and  sit  a  little  with  him,  read  him 
some  of  my  letter,  but  down  he  came  in  one  [of]  his 
grand  fusses,  before  I  was  farther  than  the  bottom  of 
the  stair-case,  determined  to  get  to  my  Mother's  before 
what  he  called  the  crowd  came.  I  must  here  remark  a 
comical  peculiarity  in  him.  Tho'  perfectly  communica- 
tive with  regard  to  your  letters,  as  in  everything  that 
concerns  him  most  nearly,  always  reading  me  parts  of 
them,  sometimes  giving  them  to  me  to  read,  I  can 
scarcely  make  him  attend  to  those  you  send  me.  Mrs. 
Cholmeley  the  morning  she  was  here,  had  been  with  him 
with  a  letter  from  you  which  she  had,  I  fancy,  very 
lately  received,  and  was  struck  with  the  same  idea. 
She  said  that  he  "despised  her  intelligence,  and  with 
all  the  insolence  of  a  lover  boasted  of  three  letters  which 
he  had  himself  received."  I  am  sometimes  diverted 
with  this,  and  shall  (I  hope)  one  day  laugh  at  him  about 
it  with  you.  Some  times  I  do  not  half  like  it ;  when 
occupied  with  one  subject,  he  talks  to  me  with  his 
life  and  quickness,  of  another.  He  was  rather  tired  of 
a  breakfast  which  he  gave  yesterday  to  my  Uncle  and 
Mrs.  Hervey 2  (at  which  he  would  not  have  me),  Miss 
[illegible],  my  Mother,  &c.  &c,  but  only  in  mind,  and  that 
seemed  quite  revived  by  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Buller,  whom 
he  saw  in  Warwick  Street,  and  whom  we  set  home 
afterwards.  He  regrets  seeing  her  so  little,  but  does 
not   like   going  there   since   she  is   grown  so  fond  of 

1  Horace  Walpole's  town-house  was  in  Berkeley  Square. 

2  In  the  Journals  of  Mary  Berry  (i.  306  «.),  Lady  Theresa  Lewis  states 
that  Mrs.  Hervey  was  a  niece  of  Alderman  Beckford,  but  this  is  not  accurate. 
Elizabeth  Hervey  was  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  March,  who  was  afterwards  the 
first  wife  of  the  Alderman.  She  was  a  clever  woman,  a  good  letter-writer, 
and  the  author  of  a  novel,  published  anonymously  in  1 790,  entitled  Louisa  ;  or, 
the  Reward  of  an  Affectionate  Daughter.  Some  of  her  letters  to  the  author 
of  Vathek  are  printed  in  the  present  editor's  Life  and  Letters  of  William 
Beckford  of  Fonthill. 


38  BERRY    PAPERS 

Gloucester  cheese,  as  he  told  her  yesterday.  I  am  well 
acquainted  with  the  Craufords,  and  remember  the  lady 
you  mention.  It  is  a  very  numerous  family,  every- 
where to  be  met  with,  and  with  which  one  passes  much 
time.  Most  seriously,  if  I  agree  with  you,  you  well 
know  friendship  can  only  exist  in  kindred  minds.  To 
real  friendship  time  may  give  solidity,  but  never  created 
more  than  its  shadow. 

I  cannot  express  to  you  how  much  I  am  pleased  with 
what  you  say  of  Cicero's  letters,  so  exactly  after  my  own 
heart.  Little  did  I  think  when  I  read  them,  when  I 
wrote  in  my  poor  dictionary,  that  I  should  ever  find  a 
being  that  would  read  and  see  as  I  did.  What  I  have 
read  has  always  been  still  more  from  sentiment  than 
taste,  and  by  you  I  would  be  judged  by  the  books  I 
admire.  If  you  deign  to  make  me  your  taster,  you  need 
not,  indeed,  fear  poison :  it  should  stop  with  me,  but 
literary  poison  I  abhor,  commonly  know  the  smell  and 
avoid  it.  I  never  read  all  Lucan,  I  assure  you.  There 
are  very  fine  things  in  it,  but  he  so  often  puts  me  out  of 
humour  with  his  eternal "  magne  "  and  [is]  sometimes  [so] 
hard  and  bombastic  in  the  lines,  that  I  have,  after  taking 
it  up,  often  laid  it  down,  and  gone  to  some  favourite 
author  to  repose  my  mind,  as  with  a  friend.  I  think 
reading  for  pure  pleasure  (unless  ordered  by  one's 
Master  otherwise)  the  only  way,  for  where  the  attention 
is  not  kept  up,  one  reads  to  little  purpose,  and  what 
at  one  time  one  may  not  like,  from  circumstance,  may 
become  interesting  at  another. 

Everybody  tells  me  that  I  am  well,  that  I  look  so, 
and  so  forth,  but  to-day  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  they  may  mistake.  I  have  a  sad  cold,  and  feel  a 
weight  and  languor  that  makes  me  thoroughly  un- 
comfortable, not  that  I  believe  it  is  anything  serious,  but 
I  have  set  up  too  late,  and  the  weather  has  been  truly 
English, — causes  sufficient,  you  well  know.  I  am  now 
determined  to  obey  your  cura  ut  valeas  as  far  as  lays  in 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  39 

my  power.  What  follows  {et  nos  dmes)  you  thought  an 
unnecessary  injunction,  and  Heaven  knows  !  it  is  so. 

I  remember  Madame  de  Sylva  and  take  her  to  be 
very  lively.  I  wish  my  cara  anima  would  not  expose 
herself,  and  her  name, — a  name  I  love,  as  every  one,  I 
think,  ought  to  do  their  own,  no  matter  what  it  be,  for 
we  cannot  have  too  many  causes  and  incitements  to 
honour.  Your  improvisatrice  I  never  saw.  I  do  not 
think  she  makes  bad  bargains  for  herself,  if  you  make 
good  ones.  I  think  by  your  next  letter  that  I  shall  hear 
of  a  packet  of  mine  which  by  that  time  you  will  have 
received, — three  letters  almost  together. 

I  shall  now  send  this,  that  it  may  be  in  good  time, 
and  try  if  I  can  work  a  little.  I  think  that  I  am  better  : 
better  one  must  feel  from  doing  what  one  likes,  when 
one  has  the  blessing  of  liking  that  that  can  leave  no  regret 
behind. — God  bless  you. — Farewell,  and  think  of  me  ever 
as  you  now  do.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Monday  Morning,  June  20,  1791. 

Living  as  I  do  in  a  house  alone,  I  feel  ashamed  of 
complaining  of  want  of  time,  yet  so  far  from  thinking 
that  I  have  a  recipe  worth  sending  you,  I  have  a 
thousand  things  to  say  to  you  and  have  wished  to  write, 
even  before  I  received  your  most  kind  letter  of  the  4th 
of  June,  which  I  did  on  Saturday  without  having  been 
able  to  find  a  comfortable  moment.  My  mother  has 
been  every  day  going  into  the  country  for  near  this 
fortnight ;  the  little  parties  I  have  made  for  her  and  been 
of  with  her,  obliging  me  to  sit  up  later  than,  for  a 
constancy,  I  can  bear  without  suffering,  have  made  me 
feel  harassed  and  fatigued,  and  I  have  not  got  up  at  my 
usual  hour,  which  takes  from  that  most  quiet  and  com- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  6. 


40  BERRY    PAPERS 

posed  time  in  the  early  part  of  the  morning  which  I 
enjoy  from  thinking  that  I  shall  not  be  interrupted,  and 
which,  as  I  think  it  my  best  time,  I  love  to  dedicate  to 
you,  then  read  for  an  hour,  before  I  begin  my  daily 
work.  But  I  often  go  down  to  my  study  sooner  than  I 
wish,  as  to  a  confugium,  when  any  one  comes,  or  that  I 
think  they  are  coming,  for  tho'  I  cannot  write,  or  read, 
I  can  continue  my  work  when  they  are  there,  and  sitting 
at  the  receipt  of  custom  in  the  morning  is  what,  from 
different  circumstances,  1  never  have  been  used  to,  and 
some  use,  you  will  allow,  it  requires  to  make  it  even 
bearable.  Tho'  I  am  told  what  Mr.  W[alpole]  tells  you, 
that  I  look  well,  and  have  felt,  and  really  been  very  low. 
I  did  not  hurt  myself  in  the  least  essentially,  I  do  assure 
you,  but  the  other  day  I  got  a  fall  from  my  scaffold, 
rather  from  a  part  of  it,  which  contributed  to  this  fall 
and  gave  me  a  shake,  a  sensation  that  in  a  far  greater 
degree  you  have  known  too  well.  My  mother  and 
Dumby  came  in  very  soon  afterwards ;  I  continued  my 
work,  and  did  not  even  mention  my  fall.  I  could  not 
help  being  diverted  with  a  sort  of  comedy,  tho'  alas !  too 
fatal  an  emblem  of  my  life.  Dumby 's  whole  conversation 
was,  u  Lord !  what  a  charming  scaffold  !  What  a  de- 
lightful scaffold !     So  clever ;  was  there  ever  anything 

so  clever,  so  well  contrived  ?  "  and  Lady  A ,  "  Look 

at  her  figure,  what  a  good  figure  ;  well,  I  do  admire  her 
figure,  and  how  well  she  does  look."  So  she  ran  on,  and 
my  mother  enjoying  my  good  looks.  During  this  con- 
versation I  grew  in  pain  and  actually  faint,  so  as  to  be 
obliged  to  go  upstairs,  which  I  could  accomplish  and  get  a 
good  glass  of  hartshorn  and  water,  which  my  faithful 
Mary  gave  me,  observing  that  I  looked  very  ill,  and  that 
she  saw  there  was  something  the  matter  the  moment  I 
called  her.     This  recovered  me,  and  so  ends  my  story. 

Monday  evening. — I  rejoice  that  you  had  at  least  a 
fortnight's  tolerable  health.  The  heat  I  do  not  fear  for 
you,  and  anything  must  be  better  than  the  cold  here, 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  41 

nasty  North  East  winds  that  blow  thro'  one.  Mr. 
W[alpole],  in  spite  of  the  weather,  returned  to  Strawberry 
[Hill]  on  Friday,  as  he  will  have  told  you.  I  wish  that 
he  would  have  stayed.  I  should  have  seen  him  con- 
stantly, but  you  know  these  are  subjects  on  which  he 
is  fixed,  and  indeed,  I  believe  that  he  wishes  to  be 
near  Cliveden}  His  spirits,  when  I  last  saw  him,  satisfied 
me,  and,  on  your  subject,  he  does  not,  at  present,  want 
comfort.  Your  return  he  looks  upon  as  certain.  He  is 
easy  as  to  the  consequences  of  your  fall,  and  all  will  go 
well  in  his  mind  till  your  journey  begins,  which  will 
again  rouse  his  fears. 

My  Father  and  Mother  went  to  Park  Place  on  Sun- 
day. I  mean  to  go  there  in  about  a  fortnight.  I  really 
dread  the  cold  of  that  house  just  now.  I  will  stay,  keep 
good  hours,  and  be  as  quiet  as  I  can,  for  quiet  I  really 
feel  to  want.  Your  friend,  Mrs.  C[holmeley]  went  on 
Sunday  also,  and  to  my  regret.  There  is  a  frankness 
in  her  manner  with  which  I  was  charmed.  Neither  her 
spirits  nor  her  health  appeared  to  me  what  I  wish.  If 
she  mentions  me  to  you,  I  trust  that  it  will  not  be  un- 
kindly. I  would  have  talked  more  of  you  to  her,  but 
wanted  opportunity  and  encouragement  from  her,  for 
I  do  assure  you  that  io  your  friend,  and  such  a  friend, 
I  should  have  infinite  pleasure  in  talking  on  your 
subject  without  reserve.  I  should,  indeed,  be  at  a  loss 
to  guess  what  part  of  your  letter  was  " impertinent"  but 
do  not  say  that  it  is  "vain"  for  you  to  attempt  suggest- 
ing to  me  whatever  may  occur  to  your  kind  friendship 
that  is  barbarous  ;  but  you  do  not  think  it.  I  know 
that  I  have  appeared  to  receive  what  you  have  said  to 
me  on  some  painful  subjects  with  stupid  insensibility. 
Could  I  have  expressed  what  I  felt,  you  would  have 
been  satisfied.     Continue,  I  conjure  you,  to  treat  me 

1  Cliveden,  or  Clive's-den,  was  the  name  that  Horace  Walpole  gave  to  Little 
Strawberry  Hill,  because  Kitty  Clive,  the  actress,  lived  there  from  1769  until 
her  death  in  1785. 


42  BERRY    PAPERS 

as  you  do  :  you  will  ever  find  me  the  being  you  now 
find  me,  to  you  most  grateful,  and  most  devoted, 
neither  fearing  Truth,  nor  shrinking  from  the  severest 
trials  of  Friendship.  My  head  I  shall  ever  mistrust ; 
deign  sometimes  to  direct  that,  and  pity,  as  I  know 
you  do,  the  errors,  fatal  to  my  peace,  into  which  it  has 
led  me.  I  know  not  how  to  thank  you  for  what  you 
so  kindly  say  of  yourself,  but  alas !  on  that  subject, 
scarcely  you  can  comfort  me.  I  cannot  forgive  myself 
for  the  real  impertinence,  folly  and  ill-judged  confidence 
of  my  conduct,  the  pain  it  gave  you,  and  the  indiffer- 
ence with  which  it  might  have  inspired  you,  for  a 
character  which,  at  best,  appeared  so  light — the  cruelty, 
too,  of  my  own  situation,  at  times,  weigh  heavily  on  my 
spirits.  It  appears  to  me,  like  a  bad  dream,  something 
which,  with  all  my  faults,  I  have  not,  Heaven  knows ! 
deserved. 

Tuesday  Morning,  June  2 1 . 

On  my  unfortunate  subject,  I  have  a  curious  cir- 
cumstance to  tell  you,  which  I  learn'd  from  Jerningham 
the  other  morning.  But  I  must  defer  it  till  my  next 
letter  ;  tho'  I  was  up  earlier,  it  is  now  near  the  time 
when  I  may  be  interrupted,  and  my  story  may  be 
rather  long.  It  is  an  old  one,  and  therefore  may  rest. 
Lady  Duncannon  has  a  good  heart,  but  a  sad  head, 
quite  unfit  for  all  the  dangers  the  circumstances  of 
her  life  have  exposed  her  to,  wanting  a  protector,  instead 
of  which  she  has  fallen  to  the  share  of  a  peevish  little 
mortal,  who  teases,  without  correcting  her.  Abuse  has 
been  lavished  on  her,  without  reserve.  Last  winter  she 
had  a  most  violent  illness,  the  precise  cause  of  which 
the  Physicians  could  not  account  for — some  inward 
disease,  and,  at  the  time,  she  was  breeding.  This  un- 
certainty the  world  good-naturedly  took  up,  and  made 
clear,  some  that  she  was  not  ill  at  all,  but  confined 
by  her  husband ;  some  that  she  was  mad ;  some  that 
she  had  poisoned  herself,  and  assigned  all  the  necessary 


Walk,;-  Mackenzie 

LADY    DUNCAN NON 
In  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  43 

and  plausible  causes.  The  reality  is  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  this  illness,  in  the  course  of  which  her  life 
was  often  despaired  of,  and  during  which  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  Lady  H.'s  sister  was  most  attentive, 
she  is  now  in  a  wretched  state  at  Bath,  having  lost 
the  use  of  one  side  totally,  and  bearing  this  miserable 
state  with  a  resignation  and  goodness  of  temper  that 
would  almost  touch  the  heart  of  a  newspaper  writer. 

Thank  you  for  anticipating  my  questions  about 
Mrs.  C[holmeley].  You  will  have  seen,  by  my  last  letter, 
that,  this  time,  I  was  less  dull  than  usual.  Indeed,  tho', 
as  I  still  say,  she  is  pleasant  and  agreeable,  her  house 
and  herself  are  equally  different  from  what  they  were 
when  I  first  knew  her.  f*  Costanza  e  spesso  il  variar 
pensiero."     It  is  a  sad  truth. 

Heaven  bless  you.  Think  no  more  of  my  stupid 
fall.  On  my  honour,  I  now  do  not  feel  it,  but  I  have  a 
satisfaction  in  keeping  nothing  from  you,  however 
trifling  the  circumstance.     Once  more,  farewell.  * 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Friday,  June  24,  1791. 

What  I  had  not  time  to  tell  you  in  my  last  was 
what  passed  one  morning  when  Jerningham  was  sitting 
with  me.  Our  conversation  had  taken  a  serious  turn  : 
from  one  thing  to  another,  we  came  to  abuse  in  news- 
paper. He,  with  his  hesitation,  seeming  suddenly 
labouring  with  something  that  he  wished  to  get  out,  on 
my  insisting,  said  that  he  knew  a  man  quite  miserable 
on  my  account  from  thinking  that  he  had  injured  me, 
an  injury  that  he  would  give  a  limb  to  redress  (that  was 
his  expression).    This  person  is  a  Mr.  Combe,2  once  a 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  9. 

*  William  Combe  (1741-1823),  who,  educated  at  Eton  and  Oxford,  and 
for  some  time  a  fashionable  man  about  town,  after  various  vicissitudes,  became 
a  journalist.  He  was  the  author  of  many  books,  the  best-known  of  which  is 
Doctor  Syntax. 


44  BERRY    PAPERS 

sort  of  fine  gentleman  about  this  town,  frequenting  balls 
and  assemblies,  a  writer  of  pamphlets  and  paragraphs  in 
newspapers — then  from  taste,  now  by  profession.  This 
man,  it  seems,  by  his  own  account,  took  up  opinions  of 
me,  ages  passed,  he  says  he  knows  not  why,  that  it  was 
without  reason,  and  merely  from  idle  report  that  he 
thought  ill  of  me,  named  me  with  abuse  in  his  pamphlets, 
and  in  newspapers,  which  he  now  thinks  of  with  extreme 
pain  and  regret,  convinced  from  subsequent  circum- 
stances that  he  has  wronged  me,  and  would  now  defend 
my  character  by  every  means  in  his  power.  He  told 
Jerningham  that  he  proposed  reprinting  his  works, 
leaving  out  the  lines  where  I  am  mentioned,  and  in  the 
preface  or  post-script,  making  an  apology  for  having 
attacked  me,  and  expressing  his  regret  (as  to  all  others 
mentioned,  he  said  that  it  was  what  they  deserved,  and 
he  should  not  retract).  Jerningham,  as  my  friend, 
desired  he  would  not  make  any  apology,  if  he  did  re- 
print his  works,  thinking  that  it  would  only  be  bringing  up 
old  stories  which,  he  fancies,  lose  ground  daily.  I  know 
not,  and  confess  that  my  head  is  not  competent  in  this  to 
judge.  This  man  has  actually  of  himself  been  writing 
in  newspapers  in  which  he  is  concerned,  and  doing 
what  he  can  to  make  up  for  the  wrong  he  formerly  did 
me.  I  told  Jerningham  that  I  believed  he  had  given  this 
turn  to  Mr.  Combe's  opinions,  but  he  protested,  upon 
his  honour,  that  the  man  first  mentioned  it  to  him,  and 
as  feeling  really  hurt  and  affected.  I,  at  least,  repeat 
to  you  what  Jerningham  said  to  me,  without  exaggera- 
tion. Mr.  Combe  can  not  redress  the  wrong  he  has 
done  me.  It  is  only  a  melancholy  speculation  to  trace, 
in  this  instance,  one,  possibly  the  original  author,  as  far 
as  newspapers,  of  calumny  and  a  long  train  of  perse- 
cuting abuse.  At  the  time  he  first  began  his  writings,  a 
word,  a  bow,  from  me,  or  the  least  accidental  attention 
or  acquaintance,  might  have  made  him  lavish  as  much 
unmerited   praise   as    he   has   barbarous   abuse.     Now, 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  45 

were  he  to  write,  to  swear,  to  disavow  his  injuries  in  the 
most  formal  manner,  ten  to  one  it  would  be  said  that  I 
had  bought  this  man,  and  all  his  testimonies  laughed  at. 
What  a  long  story  on  an  odious  subject !  and  what  must 
be  my  confidence  in  your  kindness  and  the  interest  you 
take  in  me,  to  send  it !  My  confidence  is,  indeed,  great, 
and  the  comfort  that  kindness  gives  me  deeply  felt. 
One  thing  more  he  told  me,  which  will  surprize  you  as 
little  as  it  did  me,  that  a  certain  fiend,  scio  quam  dicam, 
had  attempted  to  abuse  me.  It  was  to  Lady  Mount- 
Edgcumbe,1  who  received  what  she  said  with  scorn  and 
contempt.  She  knows  her,  and  all  she  has  said  of  her, 
and  hers,  but  fears  her,  and,  like  others,  treats  her  with 
management  in  some  degree — a  pernicious  system,  but, 
while  followed  by  so  many,  difficult  to  avoid.  I  thought 
myself  extremely  angry  and  felt  an  inclination  to  re- 
proach her  with  her  infamous  falsehood  (which,  with- 
out Lady  Mount-Edgcumbe's  leave,  I  could  not).  But  on 
her  coming  into  my  study  the  day  following,  the  altera- 
tion or  increase  of  bad  opinion  being  so  slight,  I  did  not 
feel  half  so  much  offended  as  perhaps  I  ought.  Well, 
you  may  think  me  stupid — think  me  but  sincere. 

Monday  morning. — Thank  Heaven  !  I  have  to-day 
another  subject  to  write  upon,  one,  from  the  first,  most 
dear,  now  most  satisfactory,  most  comforting.  I  re- 
ceived your  last  kind  letter  of  the  10th  June  on  Saturday 
late,  when,  after  working  at  His  Majesty's  statue2  all 
day  I  had  descended  to  work  in  my  garden,  not  a  very 
large  field  for  fame.  I  can  regret  nothing  that  may 
have  contributed  to  inspire  you  with  confidence — a 
confidence  you  will  ever  find  me  ready  to  confirm  by 
every  proof  of  real  attachment.  Merely  to  see  you  is 
not   my  object,   great  as   that   satisfaction   is,  I  freely 

1  Emma,  daughter  of  John  Gilbert,  Archbishop  of  York  (1693-1761), 
married  in  1761  George,  third  Baron  Mount- Edgcumbe. 

2  A  statue  of  George  III,  eight  feet  high,  which  is  in  the  Register  Office  of 
Scotland  at  Edinburgh. 


46  BERRY    PAPERS 

allow,  to  me :  but  to  see  you  long  with  a  doubtful 
opinion  of  my  character,  or  be  seen  by  you  with 
indifference,  would  be,  to  me,  insupportable.  Never 
spare  me  in  anything  that  concerns  you.  Our  interests 
cannot  be  separated.  In  everything  that  regards  a  world 
I  have  so  ill  understood,  let  your  better  head  and  better 
judgement  direct.  Your  decrees  will  never  appear  harsh 
to  me,  while  accompanied  with  that  tenderness  and 
kindness  I  have  ever  experienced  from  you.  I  do  not 
doubt  that,  to  me,  you  write  from  your  heart ;  why, 
indeed,  else  should  you  write  ?  But  on  this  subject  I 
need  not  reason.  Yet  you  know  there  are  degrees,  and 
you  cannot  wonder  if  I  am  sensible  to  that  increase  of 
confidence  you  so  kindly  mention  yourself  experiencing. 
You  will  have  found  me,  in  my  letters,  frequently 
mention  Mrs.  Cholmeley  and  boast  of  her  kindness  to 
me,  from  the  double  vanity  of  thinking  it  would  please 
you,  as  she  seemed  unwell,  and  rather  to  dread  the 
journey,  I  expressed  a  very  sincere  wish  to  know,  in 
some  way,  of  her  safe  arrival,  with  which  she,  most 
obligingly,  complyed,  by  writing  to  me  herself,  and  I 
had  the  satisfaction  to  know  that  she  got  to  her  country 
house  on  Tuesday  without  difficulty  or  fatigue — so  she 
expressed  herself. 

Tuesday  Morning,  Jutu  28. 

Every  one  here,  for  these  two  days,  has  been  and 
is  under  much  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  wretched  French 
royalties,  of  which  I  shall  say  little,  as  what  might  suit 
this  moment  can  not  suit  the  one  in  which  you  will 
receive  my  letter.  It  is  a  sad  tragedy,  that  would, 
however,  touch  me  more,  if  I  were  more  interested  for 
the  principal  characters,  but  such  weakness,  la  foi  des 
serments,  des  autels,  violated,  which,  I  do  insist  upon  it, 
never  should  have  been,  as  one  door  is  ever  open  to 
escape  from  perjury.  But  no  matter ;  as  miserable 
individuals,  I  do  from  my  soul  pity  them. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  47 

I  think  with  much  anxiety  of  your  return,  tho'  it  is 
my  opinion  that,  in  these  days,  confusion,  a  phantom 
so  constantly  talked  of,  is  seldom  to  be  seen,  yet  the 
undique  bella,  the  doubts,  difficulties  and  dangers  you 
may  be  exposed  to — For  pity's  sake  !  at  least,  be  cautious. 
If  you  come  round  by  Germany,  remember  that  from 
Ostend  to  Calais  there  is  a  road,  only  18  posts, — it  was 
sandy  and  bad  when  I  passed  it,  but  that  was  many 
years  ago,  and  it  may  now  be  good.  The  passage  from 
Ostend,  at  the  late  season  of  the  year,  is  most  uncertain, 
often  not  safe.     In  memoria  habes,  for  heaven's  sake  ! 

On  Friday  I  am  to  go  to  Strawberry  [Hill]  for  a 
night  or  two.  I  shall  after  that  return  here,  and  then 
go  the  begining  of  next  week  to  P[ark]  Place.  Our 
variable  weather  is  now  hot.  I  am  better ;  I  keep  well 
and  must  not,  should  not  complain.  Poor  Jferningham] 
is  not  in  spirits.  His  secret  I  do  not  know,  but  as  it  is 
about  one  belle  of  many,  I  cannot  much  respect  it ;  but 
he  is  a  good  creature,  and  one  of  the  few  men  one  can 
live  in  intimacy  with. 

Farewell,  I  end  one  letter  to  begin  another.  It  is 
my  greatest  pleasure  and  my  greatest  comfort,  the 
assurance  of  your  friendship. — Farewell.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Thursday  Evening,  July  7,  1791. 

I  meant  to  have  gone  to  Park  Place  yesterday,  but 
stayed,  as  Mr.  W[alpole]  was  to  come  to  town,  that  he 
might  have  a  home  in  the  evening ;  and  to-day,  partly 
from  his  not  returning  and  partly  from  finding  that  I 
had  some  things  to  get,  to  order,  and  to  do,  and  that  I 
should  be  hurried.  He  will  give  you  an  account  of 
himself.  I  shall,  therefore,  only  mention  what  I  think 
he   may   not.     The   nasty,    damp,    changeable  weather 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  11. 


48  BERRY    PAPERS 

(and  I  always  fear  the  situation  of  Strawberry  [Hill]) 
has  given  him  something  of  the  rheumatisms.  I  called 
upon  him  this  morning  and  found  him  rather  fidgetty, 
and  uncomfortable,  but  then  he  was  expecting  sa  chere 
s&ur,1  and  the  affair  of  Mrs.  Day,  which  you  know,  is 
on  his  mind  :  and  then  he  has  not  received  your  letter, 
which  I  am  sure  you  have  sent  him,  but  it  is  no  wonder 
this  stormy  weather,  if  the  post  fails.  Mais  tout  cela  ne 
Paccommode  pas,  and  he  lives  in  such  a  passion  about 
French  politics  that  I  think  it  not  good  for  his  health. 
My  being  reasonable  makes  it  worse,  when  he  talks  to 
me  on  the  subject,  as  that  is  direct  opposition — quite  the 
antipodes.  However,  he  was  in  very  good  spirits  here 
yesterday  evening,  and  had  his  dear  Mrs.  Buller,  the 
only  person,  I  think,  that  he  thoroughly  likes  talking  to 
in  your  absence.  Madame  d'Albany  he  turns  up  his 
nose  at,  and  will  never  forgive  for  not  having  im- 
mediately known  your  name  and  recollected  you 2  tho' 
I  do  believe,  and  must  in  justice  say,  that  it  was  the 
difference  in  pronunciation  that  made  her,  for  an 
instant,  hesitate.  Heaven  bless  you.  I  can  write  no 
more  at  present,  for  I  must  dress  myself.  I  am  going 
to  Mrs.  B.,  and  then  to  my  sister's. 


Park  Place,  Saturday  Morning. 

From  the  Sierra  Morena  and  the  plains  of  Andalusia 
to  the  chickens  of  Park  Place  is   "  a  falling  off."     Yet 

1  Mary,  an  illegitimate  daughter  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  by  Maria  Skerritt, 
afterwards  his  second  wife.  On  Sir  Robert's  retirement  he  obtained  for  her  a 
patent  of  precedence  as  an  earl's  daughter.  She  married  Colonel  Charles 
Churchill,  an  illegitimate  son  of  General  Charles  Churchill,  by  Anne  Oldfield, 
the  actress.     Lady  Mary  Churchill  died  early  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

*  "  I  really  found  she  had  more  sense  than  I  had  thought  the  first  time  I 
saw  her ;  but  she  had  like  to  have  undone  all,  for  when  I  showed  her  the 
'  Death  of  Wolsey,'  with  which  Mrs.  D[amer]  is  anew  enchanted,  and  told  her 
it  was  painted  by  her  acquaintance,  Miss  Agnes  Berry,  she  recollected  neither 
of  you — but  at  last  it  came  out  that  she  had  called  you  Miss  Barrys." — Horace 
Walpole  to  Mary  Berry,  July  4,  1791. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  49 

I  have  the  confidence  to  think  that  by  you  my  letters 
will  not  be  read  with  less  interest,  tho'  they  may  be 
expected  with  less  anxiety.  I  saw  Mr.  W[alpole]  at 
Mrs.  Buller's,  and  was  better  satisfied  with  him  than 
I  was  in  the  morning.  He  writes  to  you,  I  find,  of 
his  anger  at  your  sister's  having  told  Miss  C.  that  he 
was  so  uneasy  about  your  fall,  and  the  scar  on  your 
face.  I  meant  to  tell  you,  if  he  had  not.  It  is  true 
that  there  is  scarcely  anybody  one  can  say  anything 
to.  You  would  have  been  diverted  to  hear  him  scold — 
"foolish,  gossiping  people,  I  can't  imagine  what  she 
can  write  to  them  for."  You  are  charming  about  my 
sister  and  the  D[uke]  of  Richmond].  She  is,  indeed, 
one  of  the  oddest  beings  living,  and  one  of  the  best ; 
but  by  mismanaging  her  large  stock  of  good-nature, 
there  often  is  real  neglect,  particularly  towards  my 
mother,  which,  at  times,  almost  provokes  me.  I  have 
tryed  to  convince  her  of  this,  but  it  is  so  impossible, 
so  perfectly  vain  that  I  give  it  up.  For  myself,  I  am 
really  satisfied.  We  can  not  in  all  find  all,  and  where 
kindness  so  much  preponderates,  and  that,  according 
to  a  character  one  finds  so  much  preference  there  is 
no  complaining,  even  of  what,  from  some  very  few, 
might  cut  one  to  the  soul.  I  saw  G[eneral]  O'Hara 
yesterday  morning  and  told  him  what  you  said.  You 
seem  pretty  safe  as  to  his  remembrance.  He  talked 
of  you  in  a  way  that  pleased  even  me,  and  I  think 
would  not  hesitate  in  recollecting  your  name,  however 
pronounced.  He  is,  in  my  opinion,  not  only  a  most 
agreeable,  and  most  entertaining,  but  a  most  valuable 
creature.  Madame  d'Albany  I  have  seen  a  great  deal 
of  lately — more,  I  think,  than  of  any  others.  That  is, 
she  came  almost  constantly  in  the  morning  to  me,  sat 
while  I  was  at  work,  talking  with  perfect  ease  and 
liberty  on  all  subjects,  her  own  not  excepted.  I  do 
not  mean  Alfieri.  He  keeps  himself  in  the  background 
hitherto.     Once  he  came  into  my  study,  when  he  called 

D 


50  BERRY    PAPERS 

at  the  door  for  her,  and,  at  Strawberry  [Hill]  I  saw 
him,  and  am  to  see  him  here,  with  her.  She  is  to 
pass  two  nights,  in  her  way  and  he  accompanies  her 
on  a  long  journey  through  Scotland  and  Wales.  How 
this  will  be  taken  I  know  not  exactly,  for,  as  you  say, 
much  severity  is  exerted  as  to  those  connexions  here. 
For  my  part,  aware  of  this,  I  commonly  say  that  I 
am  persuaded  they  are  privately  married.  Not  that 
I  know  one  word  about  it,  or,  in  the  least,  care,  but 
they  might  as  well,  in  one  sense,  for  he  both  does  the 
honours  of  her,  and,  I  believe,  governs  her  with  a  tight 
hand.  He  seems  to  be  sensible  and,  I  fancy,  is  well 
informed,  but  grave  and  severe.  This,  with  her  clumsy 
person  and  contented  appearance,  should  not  shock 
Prudery  ;  for  much,  in  all  this,  depends  on  exterior. 

The  Campbells  are  at  Inverary — my  uncle  what 
people  call  thinking  himself  ill,  that  is,  being  so,  for, 
otherwise,  I  am  convinced,  it  is  a  subject  no  one  thinks 
about.  His  spirits  are  low — cause  or  consequence  of 
the  first :  Lady  A.,1  no  doubt,  dawdling  away  her  time 
with  that  most  indifferent  sposo,  and  Lady  C.2  carving 
some  name  on  some  tree  and  lolling  on  the  arm  of 
a  confidante,  in  the  form  of  Miss  Campbell.  To  be 
serious,  believe  me,  I  much  regret  the  most  unfortunate 
education  of  this  cousin  and  the  dangers  that  now 
surround  her.  'Tis  really  pity  this  optima  indoles  will, 
from  what  I  hear,  make  a  sad  figure.  Lady  Frederick,3 
whom   we    agree   in   thinking   perfectly   clear   sighted, 

1  Lady  Anne  Campbell,  married  (eloping  with  him)  General  Clavering. 

1  The  younger  daughter,  Lady  Charlotte. 

3  Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  Amos  Meredith,  and  granddaughter  of  Sir 
William  Meredith,  Bart.,  of  Henbury,  Cheshire,  married  in  1752  Laurence 
Shirley,  fourth  Earl  Ferrers  (1 720-1 760),  who  was  hanged  for  the  murder  of 
his  steward.  She  obtained  an  act  of  separation  from  him  in  June  1758  for 
cruelty.  In  1769  she  married  Lord  Frederick  Campbell,  third  son  of  John, 
fourth  Duke  of  Argyll,  an  uncle  of  Mrs.  Damer.  Lady  Frederick  was  burnt 
to  death  at  Coomb  Bank,  Kent,  in  1807.  Her  husband,  sometime  Lord 
Clerk  Register  of  Scotland,  survived  her  nine  years. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  51 

tho'  she  does  sometimes  use  a  magnifier,  gave  me  an 
account  of  her  dress  and  manner  that  hurt  me,  and 
that  you  will  easily  guess,  without  my  attempting  to 
describe. 

Sunday  evening. — Coming  here  has  felt  to  me  like 
a  cold  bath,  from  the  atmosphere  of  London  and  my 
house  ;  and  to-day,  an  hour  that  we  were  out  excepted, 
it  has  been  a  constant  thick  rain.  I  found  only  Louisa 
and  a  friend  of  hers,  Miss  Hamilton  (a  sensible,  well- 
behaved  girl  enough,  to  appearance).  We  expect  my 
sister  this  evening.  She  has  announced  sleeping  at 
Strawberry  [Hill]  last  night  in  her  way.  I  hope  she 
will  come,  particularly,  for  my  Mother  seems  to  have 
set  her  heart  on  it :  but  nothing  is  more  uncertain 
than  her  peregrinations.  I  feel  anxious  till  I  hear  that 
I  have  not  done  mischief  by  what  I  said  of  your 
house  to  Mr.  W[alpole].  It  would  be  too  hard  if,  a 
second  time,  what  I  said  should  cause  you  both  uneasi- 
ness. Yet,  tho'  it  will  truly  vex  me,  if  I  have,  I  depend 
on  knowing  it  from  you,  and  entreat  that  I  may.  I  was 
not  before  incautious  in  talking  to  him  of  you,  knowing 
his  disposition,  but  I  shall  now  be  more  than  ever  on 
my  guard,  lest  I  should  give  him  pain,  for  I  know  that 
there  are  a  thousand  things  he  will  thank  both  you  and 
me  for  having  told  him. 

I  need  not,  at  present,  answer  to  what  you  so  kindly 
say  on  my  working  too  much.  Before  I  settle  to  that 
again,  the  days  will  be  shorter.  The  little  Erynnis  I 
shall  mend  :  I  have  all  the  pieces  but  one.  When  I 
saw  it  broken,  I  remembered  that  you  had  liked  it,  and 
reproached  myself  much  the  more  for  not  having  put 
it  in  a  safe  place.  I  gave  Livie  your  message.  His 
answer  was  : — "  I  highly  value  Miss  Berry.  When  does 
she  return  ?  "  And  then,  "  I  hope  we  shall  have  a  touch 
together  next  winter."  Indeed,  I  wished  you  to  be  ac- 
quainted. No  one  I  ever  saw  is  so  capable  of  being 
of  use  to  you,  and,  if  I  do  not  judge  too  favourably  of 


52  BERRY    PAPERS 

his  taste,  few  would  have  greater  pleasure  in  being  so, 
by  contributing  to  your  instruction,  and  he  is  not  a 
lt  seccatore." 

Monday  Morning,  July  II. 

I  must  send  my  letter  now  a  day  before  the  post,  and 
receive  yours  a  day  later,  but  so  great  alas !  the  distance 
that  this  difference  of  date  seems  small.  Tell  me  of 
your  Principessa  and  your  Marchesa.  The  latter  is  cer- 
tainly acting  a  very  foolish  part,  to  say  no  more.  My 
sister  came  last  night.  Mr.  W[alpole]  had  an  engage- 
ment out  and  could  not  see  her — a  sign,  however,  that 
his  rheumatism  is  not  worse. — Farewell.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Wednesday  Morning,  July  13,  1791. 

I  was  indeed  most  agreably  surprized  at  receiving 
your  letter  this  morning  of  the  25th  [June],  quite  praeter 
spem.  Not  tha  t  Mr.  W[alpole]  could  give  me  your  message, 
not  having  himself  had  your  letter  when  I  left  him,  but 
seeing  the  Friday's  post  over  (when,  by  the  date,  I  think 
I  should  have  had  this),  I  concluded  that  you  had  missed 
what  you  kindly  call  my  "post  day,"  and  had  made  up  my 
nolentem  mind  to  the  idea  of  not  hearing  of  you  till  Satur- 
day. You  are,  in  everything,  most  kind.  I  was  not  very  ill, 
really  ;  enough,  however,  to  have  been  fully  sensible  to 
the  satisfaction  and  comfort  of  seeing  anything  so  dear  to 
me  as  you,  for  however  short  a  time.  But  do  not  have 
the  vanity  to  suppose  that  it  is  in  your  u  power  to  ad- 
minister "  to  me  a  "small  degree  of  comfort."  I  can 
not  flatter  you  so  far  as  to  say  that  can  ever  be.  My 
work  I  shall  not,  to  you,  pretend  to  say  does  not  often 
fatigue  me ;  but  then  I  recover  with  a  night's  rest,  and 
nothing  ever  contributed  so  much  towards  that  rest  as 
this  occupation,  to  which  I  think  I  owe  much  composure 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727tf-  13. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  53 

of  body  and  mind,  upon  the  whole,  and  sometimes  not 
to  exceed,  when  anxious  to  finish  or  continue  a  piece 
of  work  of  this  sort,  is  next  to  impossible,  from  its 
nature,  and  from  mine,  I  am  sure_^?#  will  allow.  When 
I  think  of  the  sleepless  nights  I  constantly  passed  for 
years  before  I  took  it  up  seriously,  of  the  miserable 
state  my  health  was  in,  all  which  I  bore  with  a  stupid 
sort  of  indifference  for  so  long  a  time,  I  am  provoked 
at  myself.  For  much,  perhaps,  might  have  been  done, 
si  mens  non  laeva  fuisset.  Believe  me  most  sincere  when 
I  assure  you  that  the  interest  you  take  in  my  health  will 
more  than  any  other  consideration  make  me  attend  to  it. 
Saturday  morning. — Mrs.  Hervey  came  here  on 
Thursday  night  and  brought  an  account  of  Mr. 
W[alpole]'s  having  the  rheumatism x  and  of  her  having 
seen  him  sitting  in  his  nightgown,  and  confined.  He 
perhaps  will  not  tell  you  this,  but  I  shall.  She  says  that 
it  is  in  his  shoulder.  I  feel  some  degree  of  satisfaction 
from  his  having  seen  her}  which  he  would  not,  had  he 
been  then  very  bad  and  out  of  spirits  :  but  I  am  far 
from  easy.  He  will  not  write  to  me  on  this,  I  know,  so 
that  I  must  wait  to  hear  till  I  have  an  answer  to  my 
letter  to  him — a  sad  uncomfortable  system  of  his,  I 
must  think.  Mrs.  H[ervey]  has  been  passing  some  days 
at   Lady  Cecilia's,2  who  is  grown  mighty  fond  of  her, 

1  "  Now  I  must  say  a  syllable  about  myself — but  don't  be  alarmed  !  it  is  not 
the  gout ;  it  is  worse,  it  is  the  rheumatism,  which  I  have  had  in  my  shoulder  ever 
since  it  attended  the  gout  last  December.  It  was  almost  gone  till  last  Sunday, 
when,  the  Bishop  of  London  [Porteous]  preaching  a  charity  sermon  in  our 
church,  whither  I  very,  very  seldom  venture  to  hobble,  I  would  go  to  hear 
him,  both  out  of  civility,  and  as  I  am  very  intimate  with  him.  The  church 
was  crammed,  and  though  it  rained  every  window  was  open.  However,  at 
night  I  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep  ;  but  waked  with  such  exquisite  pain  in  my 
rheumatic  right  shoulder,  that  I  think  I  scarce  ever  felt  greater  torture  from 
the  gout." — Horace  Walpole  to  Mary  Berry,  July  12,  1791. 

2  Henrietta  Cecilia  West,  eldest  daughter  of  John,  Lord  De  la  Warr,  an 
amateur  actress  of  note,  credited  with  a  passion  for  gambling,  and  called  by 
her  friends  "  The  Divine  Cecilia "  or  "  St.  Cecilia."  She  married  Colonel 
Johnston  in  1 762. 


54  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  there  she  says  was  Mrs.  A.,  "  Heing  away  at  such  a 
rate,  and  abusing  everybody,  that  it  made  one's  hair 
stand  on  end."  But  your  humble  servant  she  said  "  was 
perfection."  That  is  a  seed  sent  to  P\ark\  P\lace\  but  it 
will  not  grow.  What  detestable  falsehood  !  Mrs. 
H[ervey]  mentioned  her  abusing  Lady  Mount- Edgcumbe, 
in  particular,  and  that  she  had  said  such  things  of  her, 
nothing  should  make  her  even  repeat.  My  mother 
wanted  to  hear  them,  but  she — Mrs.  H[ervey] — would 
not. 

To  change  this  odious  subject  completely,  by  what 
I  take  to  be  its  direct  opposite,  I  will  talk  of  Mrs. 
Cholmeley,  tho'  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  express  the 
satisfaction  her  kind  opinion  gives  me.  How  much  of 
that  favourable  judgment  may  be,  perhaps  insensibly  to 
herself,  owing  to  your  " partiality,"  I  know  not,  but  that 
will  not  be  what  is  least  gratifying  to  my  heart.  I  am 
sure  if  Mrs.  C[holmeley]  saw  me  with  an  anxious  wish  to 
please,  to  acquire  her  good  opinion,  and  a  sincere 
admiration  of  her  character  and  herself,  she  saw  me  as  I 
"  really  was."  I  lost  no  opportunity  in  my  power  of 
seeing  her  during  her  short  stay  in  London,  and,  as  I 
told  you,  she  was  kind  enough  to  write  to  me  on  her 
arrival  in  the  country,  as  I  wished  to  know  how  she  had 
borne  her  journey — so  kind  a  letter  that  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  keep  it  till  I  see  you.  I  think  you  would  be 
pleased  to  read  it,  and  not  think  vanity  alone  made  me 
shew  it  you.  I  will  hope,  too,  at  some  future  day  of 
leisure  and  opportunity,  if  any  such  fortunate  days  are 
reserved  for  me,  that  you  will  tell  me  her  sad  story  with 
its  true  circumstances.  You  will  not  easily  find  one 
who  would  hear  it  with  more  interest. 

Sunday. — "I  am  just  returned  irom  a. procession"  of 
your  friends  Miss  Michells  and  their  new  husbands,  after 
hearing  a  sermon  preached  by  a  young  parson  with  a 
high  cape  to  his  coat,  starting  up  above  his  surplice,  and 
his  hair  well  powdered,  upon  faith  and  good  works.    This 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  55 

brought  certain  expressions  to  my  mind,  which  you  may 
perhaps  forget — "  taste  and  good  works,  &c,  and  sent  me, 
toto  animo,  to  Florence.  If  you  are  a  "  Roman-Catholic 
child  for  church  ceremonies,"  you  would  find  a  play- 
fellow in  me,  for  I  am  always  delighted  with  them,  when 
I  can  see  them  in  my  own  way.  As  to  what  you  saw, 
my  "curiosity"  must  remain  unsatisfied,  as  I  am  not 
with  Mr.  W[alpole],  nor  likely,  just  at  present,  to  see 
him,  unless  (which  heaven  forbid)  he  should  be  seri- 
ously ill.  But  I  am  pleased  that  you  was  not,  to  excess, 
fatigued  with  what  must  have  been  a  most  fatiguing  day. 
I  wish  to  be  wrong  in  my  ideas  of  milk  and  vegetable 
diet,  but  you  will  understand  that  all  I  have  said,  or  ever 
meant  to  say,  is  cautionary,  not  even  wishing,  in  this,  to 
influence  you,  merely  to  call  your  attention  to  yourself, 
and  to  your  own  health,  more  likely  to  wander  and 
watch  that  of  others.  As  for  me,  I  have  been  un- 
commonly well  since  I  came  here,  in  spite  of  changes  of 
weather  from  cold  to  hot.  At  present  it  may  really  be 
called  fine.  But  I  have  always  some  plague.  I  have,  for 
above  these  two  years,  had  a  swelling  in  my  throat,  which 
is  lately  rather  increased,  and,  tho'  not  of  a  dangerous 
sort,  yet,  as  I  do  not  chuse  to  be  like  some  of  the  figures 
you  see  in  the  Alps,  I  am  trying  to  get  the  better  of  it,  by 
medecines  and  fomentations,  ordered  me  by  Fordyce, 
who,  for  that,  and  also  to  strengthen  me  (supposing  I 
can  bear  it)  wishes  me  to  try  sea  bathing.  I  think 
I  shall.  I  will  endeavour  to  find  some  stupid  place 
where  there  is  no  company  and  where  I  can  be  quiet. 

Sunday  Evening,  July  17. 

As  my  father  goes  to  town  to-morrow  early,  and 
that  my  paper  is  nearly  full,  I  shall  finish  this  and  send 
it  to  my  House,  for  Tuesday's  post.  When  I  mentioned 
the  D.  of  B.'s  fine  coat  and  fine  equipage,  I  was  going 
on  to  talk  of  the  materfamilias,  but  something  stopped 
me,  a  feeling  of  not  choosing  to   say  anything,  where  I 


56  BERRY    PAPERS 

could  not  say  any  good  of  one  I  had  been  truly  attached 
to,  and  more  the  dread  of  your  not  being  thoroughly 
sensible  it  was  to  you,  and  only  you,  that  I  would  talk 
on  this  subject.  The  additions,  it  is  true,  now  make 
little  difference,  and  are  matter,  in  general,  only  of 
speculation  ;  but  when  I  look  at  my  children,  I  confess 
that  some  melancholy  reflections  often  steal  in  upon 
my  mind.  The  D.  of  B.  I  am  convinced,  and  I  have 
reasons  for  being  so,  deserves  the  censures  of  the  world, 
on  the  score  of  avarice  as  usual,  that  is,  according  to 
the  worlds  judgment — not  at  all.  You  perhaps  will 
think  that  I  have  a  pleasure  in  saying  that,  and  so  I 
have,  but  I  should  have  none,  if  I  did  not  think  it 
strictly  true — Farewell  and  God  bless  you. 

It  pleases  me  to  hear  of  your  weather,  but  I  think 
much  of  your  journey.  At  Turin  I  have  been  told  there 
was  lately  some  disturbance.  Mr.  Wfalpole]  I  fear,  will 
hear  of  this.  Farewell  once  more,  and  take  care  of 
yourself.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Wcdtusday  Evening,  August  3,  1791. 

That  I  may  get  rid  of  "  the  foul  fiend"  I  will  finish 
what  I  had  to  say. — That  poor  little  creature  I  mentioned 
in  my  last  to  you  had  the  misfortune  attached  to  many 
of  her  unfortunate  figure,  of  fancying  herself  always 
in  love,  and  fancy  I  must  ever  call  it,  where  there  is 
a  succession  of  objects.  This  was  to  be  carried  on 
dans  toutes  les  formes  and  a  confidante  became  part  of 
the  business.  At  one  time  it  was  her  maid,  a  girl  of 
her  own  age,  most  improperly  put  about  her,  and  in 
spite  of  the  most  earnest  expostulations  on  my  part, 
both  with  my  father  and  my  mother.  There  was  no 
degree  of  familiarity,  no  degree  of  confidence,  to  which 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  15. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  57 

she  did  not  lay  herself  open  with  this   girl.     She   left 

her,  and  then    the  fiend  twisted  round  her  and,  with 

the  help  of  her  own  imagination,  persuaded  her  that 

the  novus  pater  (an  event  I  am  sure  Mr.  Wfalpole]  has 

acquainted  you  with)  was  seriously  in  love  with  her, 

and  wished  to  marry  her.     At  first  it  was  a  mere  joke, 

but   she   carried   messages,   and   made   messages,   said 

things  for  him  that  I  am  convinced  he  never  thought  of. 

In  short,  as  I  found  that  the   poor  thing   really  grew 

quite  unhappy,  and  that  I  knew  the  other  laughed  at 

her,  into  the  bargain,  behind  her  back,  I  talked  to  her 

seriously,  and  told  her  that  she  was  trusting   one   not 

to  be  trusted,  and  said,  on  the  subject,  as  I  often  and 

often  had  on  every  other,  where  her  welfare  and  future 

happyness  was  concerned,  all  I  could  say.     When  she 

died,  my  mother,  finding  herself  unable,  gave  me  her 

letters  and  papers,  which  were  many,  for   she  always 

was  scribbling,  to  look  over,  preserve  or  destroy,  as  I 

thought  fit.     Among  them  I  found  a  letter  of  my  own 

to  her,  telling  her,  in  pretty  strong  terms,  that  she  had 

not  kept  her  word  with  me  about  the  fiend  (which    I 

had  found  to  be  the  case)  but  had  again  given  way  to 

her   foolish   confidences,   and   then    I    represented    the 

character  of  the  fiend,  not,  perhaps,  harshly,  but  truly, 

and  in  a  way  certainly,  if  known,  not  to  be  forgiven  by 

her.     When   Jerningham    mentioned    the   story   I   told 

you,  it  came  strongly  into  my  head  that  she  had  had 

the   weakness  to  repeat  to   the  fiend  what  I  had   said, 

and  to  show  her  this  letter,  and  that  the  fiend  had  been 

struck  with  this  method  of  revenge.     Poor  Car.1  might 

most   certainly  say  something  with  perfect  innocence 

of  intention,  that  the  other  might  think  furnished  her 

diabolical  genius  with  food.     Among   the  letters  there 

were   also   some   of  the  fiends,   and   I    confess  that  I 

should  have  liked  to  have  cast  my  eye  over  them.    They 

1  "Car."  was  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Scott,  author  of  some  novels  popular  in 
their  day. 


58  BERRY    PAPERS 

probably  would  have  furnished  me  with  some  proof 
of  her  falshood  and  art,  but  a  certain  thing  called 
Honour  made  me  seal  them  up  immediately,  and  thus 
seal'd  I  sent  them  to  her,  as  I  did  to  all  those  whose 
letters  I  found  among  her  papers.  You  say,  and  truly, 
that  she  has  been  suffered  too  long,  but  for  myself  I 
really  have  known  her  from  an  infant.  She  was  not 
always  what  she  now  is  :  her  bad  qualities  have  increased, 
and  the  growth,  indeed,  is  prodigious.  Say  but  the 
word  and  she  never  shall  come  within  my  doors.  I 
shall,  in  this,  but  indulge  my  own  inclination.  I  fear 
what  no  being  can  say  with  truth,  and  against  falshood 
I  know  not  how  to  guard.  I  believe  that  there  is  not 
a  creature  so  generally  despised  and  disliked,  and  in 
particular  I  know  two  who  talk  of  her  with  absolute 
horror — the  one  a  young  and  great  personage  who 
absolutely  affronts  her  whenever  she  comes  near  him, 
and  the  other  (more  polite  and  proper)  has  forbid  her 
his  house  and  has  told  me,  tho'  never  the  precise 
cause,  that  if  he  found  himself  alone  with  her,  he  should 
run  out  of  the  room ;  that  it  was  not  safe  to  be  with 
her  ;  that  she  would  report  something  he  never  said. 
As  I  never  heard  before  of  her  abusing  me,  I  so  far 
gave  her  credit :  that  credit  is  gone.     Quid  testatur  ? 

To  change  the  odious  subject,  I  think.  Yet  one 
thing  more.  Jerningham  tells  me  that  lately  she  some- 
how or  other  has  got  acquainted  with  this  Mr.  Combe 
— an  odd  circumstance,  but  I  should  think  of  no  con- 
sequence. She  is  too  well  known.  Of  the  newspapers, 
rest  assured  I  think  as  you  do.  Not  long  since,  there 
appeared  some  foolish,  tho'  to  me  they  seemed  only 
foolish,  paragraphs  in  the  World,  where,  however  ab- 
surdly, I  always  used  to  be  praised.  Jerningham  knows 
Topham,1  and  I  desired  him  to  say  that   I  was  much 

1  Edward  Topham  (1751-1820),  miscellaneous  writer,  founded  a  daily 
paper  called  the  World,  the  first  number  of  which  appeared  on  January  1, 
1787.     It  made  a  feature  of  gossip,  and  soon  acquired  an  unenviable  reputation. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  59 

surprized  he  suffered  such  stuff  in  his  paper.  He  was 
extremely  civil  and  said  that  it  had  been  quite  without 
his  knowledge,  when  he  was  out  of  town,  and  that  he 
should  give  proper  orders  in  future.  But  there  is,  in 
all  this,  a  persecution  that  too  often  quite  sinks  my 
spirits.  Think  of  their  puting  into  another  of  the  news- 
papers that  I  was  modelling  Lady  Cadogan's  arm  ! x  I 
will  for  the  present  leave  this  subject.  Good  night, 
good  night.     To-morrow  I  hope  to  hear  of  you. 

I  was  this  morning,  for  an  hour,  at  the  fine-coat 
gentleman's  House,  to  see  a  match  of  Archery,  and  I 
might  have  supped  there  the  night  before.  I  believe 
he  is  taking  your  advice,  for  I  find  that  it  is  dinners, 
suppers,  and  I  know  not  what  constantly  going  on 
there.  To-day  a  dinner,  of  everything  that  is  in  town, 
at  the  materfamilias,  which  I  declined,  and  have  passed 
my  evening  alone,  more  to  my  satisfaction,  ideally  with 
you,  than  really  with  others.  I  must  still  add  what  I 
know  interests  your  kindness  for  me.  I  saw  Jerningham 
and  told  him  that,  on  consideration,  I  returned  to  my 
first  opinion  about  Mr.  Combe,  that,  if  he  did  reprint 
his  works,  the  apology  properly  and  moderately  worded, 
without  foolish  compliments  (and  I  then  repeated  your 
words — I  mean  their  sense)  would  be  what  I  should 
wish,  and  could  do  no  harm.  He  said  that  he  certainly 
should  tell  him,  as  his  opinion,  and  that  it  was,  he 
knew,  Mr.  Combe's  wish. 

Saturday  evening. — My  magnifying  powers,  however 
suppressed  by  the  perfect  confidence  I  have  in  every 
thing  you  say,  I  could  but  feel  most  anxious  and  uneasy, 
as  you  must  be  and  are  sensible  yourself,  and  the  altered 
hand  of  your  last  lines  did  not  escape  me,  which  you 
will  find  by  my  letter.  Mr.  W[alpole]  sent  me  your 
account  by  Tuesday's  post,  and  expressed  much   un- 

1  Mary,  daughter  of  Charles  Churchill,  the  second  wife  of  Charles  Sloane 
Cadogan,  third  Baron  Cadogan  (1728-1807),  created  Earl  Cadogan  in  1800, 
from  whom  she  was  divorced  in  1 796. 


60  BERRY    PAPERS 

easiness.  He  even  deigned  to  beg  that  I  would  let  him 
know  when  I  heard  again.  This  you  will  believe  I 
should  have  done.  There  was  more  danger  of  an 
express  than  an  omission.  I  stayed  in  town  to-day,  in 
hopes  that  I  might  hear  from  you,  and  I  have  not  been 
disappointed.  The  post,  too,  came  just  in  time  for  me 
to  write  to  Mr.  W[alpole]  without  an  express.  A  few 
lines  from  you  would  have  satisfied  my  anxiety,  and  I 
would  if  I  could  regret,  this  time,  that  you  sent  me  a 
longer  letter.  It  would  be  trifling  with  you  to  say 
that  the  extreme  delicacy  of  your  health  ever  leaves  my 
mind  at  ease,  but  with  the  most  perfect  truth,  I  can 
assure  you,  tho'  I  might  not  trouble  you  with  my 
anxieties,  that  in  this  absence  they  would  have  been, 
to  me,  intolerable,  were  it  not  for  the  dependence  I  have 
on  your  word.  As  for  your  return,  I  will  not,  can  not 
say  how  much,  for  your  sake,  I  dread  it.  I  know,  and 
see  all  the  objections. 

Sunday  morning. — I  am  going,  and  shall  leave  this 
for  Tuesday's  Post.  My  leg  is  better,  tho'  not  quite 
well.  I  am  hurt  at  your  changing  a  diet  that  you  pre- 
fer, and  from  which  you  hoped  benefit,  merely  in  com- 
pliance to  others.  I  fear,  much  I  fear,  that  you  think 
all  diets  equal  as  to  your  health.  Alas !  alas !  if  you 
was  well  and  happy,  as  you  deserve,  however  I  might 
regret,  I  should  not,  as  I  do,  feel  the  cruelty  of  my 
situation.     Farewell,  and  God  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Felpham,  Monday,  August  15,  1791. 

Yesterday  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  your 
letter  here  of  the  30th  [July].  No,  no,  I  do  not "  mistake  " 
you.  I  am  flattered  and  pleased  that  I  can  "divert 
and  make  you  laugh,"  and  what  you  say  more  of  my 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  17. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  61 

letters  is  still  nearer  my  heart.  You  know  not  how  the 
idea  of  ever  having  given  you  pain  affects  me,  nor  how 
often  that  idea  recurs  to  my  mind.  Your  next  letters 
will  express  serious  uneasiness  on  Mr.  W[alpole]'s 
account,  which  I  grieve  to  think,  tho'  I  trust  your  mind 
is  now  at  ease  on  that  subject.  Dear  man  !  You  under- 
stand him  wonderfully.  Considering  you  cannot  see 
him  when  you  are  away,  I  help  your  sight  as  much  as 
I  can,  and  say  everything  to  you  of  him  without  scruple, 
certain  that,  as  it  appears  to  me,  so  it  will  appear  to 
you,  and  that  all  his  fears,  fusses,  and  "fellies"  will  only 
make  you  love  him  the  more.  I  perfectly  agree  with 
you  about  something  to  do,  and,  for  him  particularly, 
he  has  not  enough  ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  undertake 
business  that  is  not  agreeable.  It  must  pall  upon  one. 
His  ward  is  quite  mad,  and  determined  to  go  to 
Strawb[erry  Hill]  by  water,  no  other  way ;  but  out  of 
extreme  good  nature  he  will  not  consent  to  her  being 
confined,  which  is  really  a  weakness,  for  she  will,  ten  to 
one,  do  some  mischief,  and  then  he  will  be  miserable.  I 
have  heard  more  of  this  from  my  sister,  and  intend  to  tell 
him,  tho'  I  do  not  believe  that  he  will  mind  what  I  say. 
I  desire  that  you  will  "expect"  me  to  answer,  when 
ever  you  put  a  question  stop,  be  the  subject  what  it  may. 
The  high  opinion  I  have  endeavoured  to  express  of 
your  character  is  not  of  mere  words.  I  think  all  that 
most  nearly  concerns  my  honour  as  safe  in  your  breast 
as  in  my  own,  and  how  many,  many,  requisites  do  I 
not  find  necessary  to  inspire  in  me  such  a  confidence  ! 
Your  ujust"  is  very  just,  but  then  some  distress  or 
danger  must  awaken  and  call  forth  that  stock  of  "re- 
gard" to  make  her  put  herself  out  of  her  way,  and 
that  is  a  comical  way,  impossible  to  define  in  few 
words.  At  other  times,  the  whole  of  her  care,  attention, 
and  occupation  is  confined  to  her  husband.  Almost 
for  certain  it  is  that  there  is  always  a  quidam  who 
interests    and   occupies.     I    am  convinced  en  tout  bien 


62  BERRY    PAPERS 

et  tout  honneut  and  I  would  to  you,  if  I  thought  other- 
wise, say  so  as  freely.  But  she  is  void  of  art,  or  I,  in 
this  case,  of  penetration ;  and  there  is  an  innocence 
and  openness  in  her  manner  and  disposition,  a  self- 
satisfaction  and  content,  with  such  an  unrufflable  temper, 
that  can  not,  I  think,  be  mistaken,  or  dwell  in  the  same 
mind  with  vice.  For  vice  I  must  call  it  where  the 
same  train,  with  the  object  only  varied,  continues 
through  life,  forming  a  system  of  deceit  and  falsehood 
that  a  good  and  pure  mind  could  not  long  support. 
A  Madame  La  Comtesse,  with  her  separate  society, 
and  appartements,  where  all  is  understood,  or  a  poor 
ignorant  Principessa,  without  an  idea,  who  washes 
away  her  sins  with  a  little  holy  water,  or  pours  them 
into  the  ear  of  her  Confessor,  is  certainly  in  a  very 
different  predicament. 

Thursday  morning. — I  have  been  writing  to  Mr. 
W[alpole],  and  trying  to  comfort  him.  If  my  security  for 
him,  about  Cliveden,  can  quiet  his  fears,  they  will  be 
quieted,  for  you  must  see  how  his  heart  is  set  upon  that, 
and  I  mistake  indeed  if  you  are  not  the  last  of  beings 
to  give  false  hopes.  Then  I  have  been  bathing,  and 
then  taking  my  solitary  walk  by  the  sea,  and  siting, 
like  King  Canute,  till  the  waves  washed  my  feet,  but, 
thank  Heaven !  without  his  crown,  or  his  courtiers. 
I  almost  say,  hie  vivere  vellem,  and  grow  quite  fond 
of  this  place.  The  day  was  so  fine,  the  sun  so  bright 
and  the  sea  so  smooth,  and  so  divinely  beautiful  that 
I  could  not  help  wishing  that  some  of  those  good 
spirits,  many  of  which,  I  trust,  hover  round  your  dulce 
caput,  would  gently  transport  you,  per  aerem,  to  me, 
for  one  half  hour.  You  would  not  regret  that  time 
bestowed  on  me,  even  from  Florence.  I  know  not 
when  I  have  felt,  in  health,  so  well.  My  mind  and 
spirits  are  composed;  I  breath  and  think. in  liberty. 
This  is  but  the  sunshine  of  a  day,  but  what  other 
sunshines  can  we  expect  ? 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  63 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  no  more  of  Mrs.  C[holmeley],  at 
least,  of  her  health,  and  if  Scarboro'  agreed  with  her ; 
sorry,  too,  that  I  did  not  speak  to  her  of  you  particu- 
larly, since  you  wish  it ;  but  you  know  that  it  is,  at 
all  times,  an  effort  with  me  to  speak  of  myself,  or  of 
what  nearly  touches  me.  It  is  indeed  so,  and  even 
when  I  have  the  strongest  inclinations,  it  requires  a 
degree  of  kindness  and  interest  seldom  to  be  found,  or 
expected.  I  really  grieve  that  a  mind  like  hers  should 
suffer  ;  but  Justice,  if  it  exists  in  this  world,  is  not  visible 
to  my  eyes. 

I  never  answered  you  about  Lady  D.  They  have 
jumbled  and  anachronized,  as  they  often  do,  to  help  Ill- 
nature,  on  most  occasions.  She  once,  I  know,  did 
suffer,  and  took  those  terrible  medecines,  but  it  was 
some  years  passed.  Her  husband,  doubting  not  that 
it  was  owing  to  his  conduct,  and  the  vile  company  he 
kept,  used  to  carry  her  the  medecines,  and  being 
ashamed,  and  wishing  to  screen  himself,  endangered  her 
life,  by  preventing  her  from  having  proper  advice.  She 
is  still  at  Bath,  and  somewhat  better.  I  had  a  letter  this 
very  day  from  Lady  E.,  who  tells  me  that  my  friend^ 
Sir  William,  is  there,  with  his  belle.  They  have  seen  her, 
and,  of  course,  admire  her  talents,  and,  par  parenthese, 
I  do  really  believe  that  he  means  to  marry  her.  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  would  not  be  better.  One  great  folly 
often  swallows  up  little  ones,  and  he  does,  by  all  I  hear, 
make  himself  completely  ridiculous  in  his  present  state. 
There  is  now  also  there  the  fine  coat,  and  a  Lady  u  scis 
quam  dicam  " — a  very  pretty  society,  you  will  say.  Say 
what  you  please.  I  am  glad  that  you  approved  of  my 
marrying  Mdme.  d'A[lbany]  to  A[lfieri].  Be  assured 
that  I  know  better  than  to  have  performed  that  ceremony 
in  France.  My  uncles  have  apartments  in  Holyrood 
House,  and  I  made  my  Uncle  Fred1  write  to  have  them 

1  Lord  Frederick  Campbell,  third  son  of  John,  fourth  Duke  of  Argyll,  was 
Lord  Clerk  Register  of  Scotland. 


64  BERRY    PAPERS 

offered  her.  Perhaps  I  told  you  this,  for  I  am  mighty 
proud  of  the  thought,  and  think  it  extremely  congruus 
that  she  should  be  lodged  in  her  own  Palace,  or  what, 
at  least,  by  a  slight  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel,  might  have 
been  hers.  What  you  say  of  Lady  Charlotte  puts  me 
in  mind  (tho'  I  know  not  if  justly)  of  Miss  Boil,1  now 
Lady  H[enry]  Fitz[gerald].  Would  to  God  !  that  half 
that  instruction,  which  has  been  lavished  on  her,  and 
seems  now  jumbling,  jolting  and  filtering  away,  in 
rides,  drives,  balls  and  a  round  of  idle,  empty  amuse- 
ments, had  been  bestowed  on  my  poor  cousin.  I  think 
she  would  have  profited  by  it,  and  now,  in  a  "  worldly  " 
way,  the  best  thing  one  can  hope  for  her  is  some  hurried 
marriage,  with  a  thousand  chances,  even  in  that,  against 
her.  Lady  Aug.,  by  what  Lady  Frederick  Campbell]  tells 
me,  is  still  dawdling  after  her  sposo,  and  hanging  on  his 
arm  when  she  can  catch  hold  of  it.  But  he  is  sick  to 
death  of  her.  She  was,  I  believe,  once  much  implicated 
with  another — in  short,  if  she  has  not  a  tender,  she  has 
a  soft,  heart.  I  think  your  envoy  will  be  very  little  satis- 
fied with  your  pied,  quoique  celui  de  Famitie".  He  will 
either  write  you  a  plainer  letter,  or  receive  you  at  Paris 
with  a  distant,  stiff  bow,  perhaps  both.  Men  at  all 
pretentious,  and  particularly  with  those  who  have  des 
droits  are  not  apt  to  enfiler  even  de  belles  phrases,  without 
some  eye  towards  la  carte  du  tendre.  Don't  forget  to 
tell  me. 

The  Marchese  is  best  away,  but  they  now  have  talked 
here,  and  they  will  not  untalk,  tho'  they  will  go  to  the 
Marchesds  concerts,  whenever  she  returns,  if  they  are 
but  well  crowded.  I  never  thought  her  understanding 
"  superior "  :  her  talents,  when  I  was  first  acquainted 
with  her,  semed  to  me  in  an  egg  state,  but  I  begin  to 
think  that  they  never  will  hatch.  Her  house  was  then 
pleasant.     If    I    found  any  body  there  in  the  evening 

1  The  name  is  usually  spelt  Boyle.     She  was  Charlotte  Boyle  Walsingham, 
only  child  and  heiress  of  Lady  de  Ros,  and  married  Lord  Henry  in  1791. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  65 

it  was  an  artist,  or  two,  and  she  used  herself  constantly 
to  sing  and  play.  This  I  prefered  to  concerts,  and  the 
locust-like  foreigners  that  since  filled  her  house.  I 
meant  no  more, — the  flighty  particles  which  have  lately 
appeared  excepted. — When  I  was  in  town  last,  I  saw 
Mrs.  Buller  several  times,  who  I  do  think  is  superior.  I 
dined  with  her  at  Lady  Mount  [-EdgcumbeJ's  and  passed 
one  evening  with  her  at  her  house,  alone  only  her  son, 
who,  queer  as  he  is,  I  do  not  quite  dislike.  Perhaps  it  is 
an  opposition  liking,  to  the  manners  of  the  young  men 
of  this  age.  The  Poet  looked  fat  and  blooming  and  his 
spirits  recovered.  His  physique  must  have  agreed  to  a 
miracle.  I  am  not  affronted  to  find  that  he  can  do 
so  well  without  me.  I  had  also  from  him  a  letter 
to-day.  He  says  that  he  has  "been  breathing  the  air 
upon  Wimbledon  common,  and  that  he  is  mine,  with 
an  amitie  that  neither  this  weather  can  dissolve,  or  the 
winter  congeal." 

Saturday  morning. — I  have  no  event  to  recount  but 
the  arrival  yesterday  of  the  D[uke]  of  R[ichmon]d,  and 
Miss  Le  Clerc, *  in  a  phaeton,  to  visit  me,  just  as  I 
was  set  down  to  my  dinner.  Afterwards  we  drove 
and  walked  about.  He  examined  the  beach,  and  in 
imagination  rectified  every  pile  driven  into  the  sea 
to  avert  its  force,  and  every  drain  on  the  land  ;  knew 
the  name  of  every  hill,  marked  out  to  me  the  sands  and 
hidden  rocks  of  this  inhospitable  shore,  for  such  it 
is.  No  ship  of  any  size  can  venture  even  within  sight, 
but  takes  its  distant  course  beyond  a  floating  lighthouse 
which  we  could  just  discover. 

Sunday  Morning,  August  21. 

Yesterday  evening  still  a  day  sooner  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  receiving  your  letter  of  6th  August.  It  is  just  as  I 
guessed,  full  of  anxiety  on  dear  Mr.  W[alpole]'s  account, 

1  Miss  Henrietta  Le  Clerc  was  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  natural  daughter. 
She  married  Colonel  Dorrien. 

E 


66  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  how  I  see  your  heart  traced  in  every  line  !  Never 
talk  of  anxiety  of  mine  that  you  can  "augment";  on 
the  contrary,  there  is  a  satisfaction  beyond  all  others  in 
having  thus  constantly  every  idea  met,  and  every  senti- 
ment partaken.  If  I  mistake  not,  your  uneasiness  will 
have  been  much  lessened  by  the  Saturday's  post  you 
expected,  but  it  is  "  manente  lite  "  when  one  is  absent,  I 
well  know. 

I  have  said  much  of  him  lately  in  my  letters,  and 
need  not,  altho'  you  may  always  like  to  hear  it,  repeat 
that  I  was  quite  satisfied  with  his  looks  when  last  I  saw 
him ;  and  tho'  his  letters  express  so  much  fear  about 
your  health,  and  anxiety  lest  anything  should  delay 
your  return,  I  can  plainly  see  that  it  is  not  written  in 
low  spirits ;  and  I,  in  all  these  things,  I  never  can  de- 
ceive myself  and  never  will  deceive  you.  I  suspected 
that  you  would  not  quite  approve  of  my  "stupid  quiet" 
bathing  place,  that  is  being  alone  ;  which  of  the  two 
evils  you  mention,  you  will,  however,  think  the  lesser. 
I  will  not  promise  you  to  stay  long,  even  tho'  Neptune 
should  set  out  all  his  charms  and  magnificence.  I  will 
get  my  "  ablutions  "  now  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  shall,  in  the 
interim,  probably,  go  to  Goodwood  for  a  few  days. 
My  intentions  are  to  see  Mr.  Wfalpole]  again  by  the 
end  of  next  month  at  latest,  and  to  make  him  settle  a 
time  for  coming  to  P[ark]  Place.  Do  not  think,  that 
in  this  extreme  care  of  myself,  I  am  unmindful  of  him ; 
could  that  be,  I  should  still  have  your  injunctions  to  get 
over,  and  sad  reproaches  for  neglect  of  my  charge,  in- 
superable barriers  to  me,  rest  assured. 

I  think  I  should,  naturally,  go  to  town  about  the  end 
of  October ;  but  I  meant,  and  therefore  may  as  well 
say  it  now,  to  entreat  you  by  that  friendship  you  have 
shown  me,  without  the  smallest  scruple  to  tell  me  if 
(which  I  think  extremely  probable)  you  would  not 
prefer  my  not  being  in  town,  on  your  first  arrival. 
Nothing  so  easy,  it  will  only  be  prolonging  a  visit  at  P[ark] 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  67 

Place,  and  in  making  one  at  that  time,  which  I  intend 
making  at  some  time,  at  B[rocket]  Hall.1  For  my  part, 
the  joy  of  seeing  you  again  is  what  I  scarcely  can  think 
of,  but  that  would  more  than  lose  all  its  charms,  either, 
if  not  in  some  measure  partaken  by  you,  or  if  accom- 
panied with  more  than,  alas  !  unavoidable  "  circum- 
stances," circumstances  I  trust,  were  you  inclined  to 
u  forget "  that  I  should  not  want  the  generosity  to  bring 
to  your  memory. 

I  have  more  to  say  to  you,  a  question,  asked  in  your 
letter  to  answer  ;  but  this  letter  is  tolerably  thick,  and 
I  choose  rather  to  send  it  to-day  that  it  may  be  sure 
of  being  in  time  for  Tuesday's  post.  Madame  d' Albany 
went  no  farther  than  Birmingham  on  her  way  to  Scot- 
land, and  is  now  gone  suddenly  away.  I  yesterday 
received  this  news  from  herself,  in  a  very  kind  letter. 
She  desires  me  to  direct  to  her  at  Brussels.  I  do  not 
believe  this  regards  French  politics  further  than  her 
pension  may  be  concerned,  for  she  is  one  of  the  very 
few  reasonable  on  this  subject.  If  it  lasts  so  long,  you 
will  be  surprised  at  the  violence  here,  and  the  absurdity. 
I  have  a  notion  that  the  letter  from  Lisbon  was  from 
a  Miss  Catwell,  a  good  humoured,  bouncing,  flouncing, 
tall  girl,  who  used,  I  think,  to  mention  Mrs.  Legge 2  and 
the  beauties  of  poetry. 

Farewell  and  God  bless  you.3 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Felpham,  Thursday,  August  25,  1791. 

These  last  two  days  have  been  blowing  and  violent, 
an   absolute   storm,  and    I   have  scarcely  been  out.     I 

1  Brocket  Hall,  Hertfordshire,  the  seat  of  Lord  Melbourne. 

2  Mrs.  Legge  was  the  wife  of  Heneage  Legge,  of  Aston,  Staffordshire. 
She  and  her  husband  had  spent  the  summer  at  Florence. 

3  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  19. 


68  BERRY    PAPERS 

have  been  writing  a  thousand  letters,  and  my  head  is 
quite  fatigued.  I  must  repose  myself  with  you,  for 
there  the  effort  is  in  not  writing.  Occasional  letters, 
be  they  to  whom  they  may,  when  one  writes  because 
it  is  time,  and  not  because  one  has  something  to  say, 
must  be  a  positive  task.  Everybody  feels  it,  and  yet 
they  will  continue  ;  but  one  must,  I  believe,  try  in  most 
things  not  too  far  to  leave  the  ranks,  whatever  the 
service. 

I  have  been  writing  to  Lisbon.  What  you  said 
roused  my  gratitude.  The  letter,  I  find,  was  to  Mr. 
Legge,  not  Mrs.  I  had,  before,  recollected  that  a  Mr. 
Burn,  or  Mrs.  Hake,  who  live  much  at  the  Minister's, 
were,  for  every  reason,  more  likely  to  have  mentioned 
me,  than  the  Miss  C[atwell]  I  told  you  of,  but  she  pre- 
sented herself  to  my  imagination, — and  in  one  sense  it 
may  be  any  of  them.  .  .  . 

Bathing,  I  think,  agrees  with  me,  but  it  does  not 
make  me  "strong  and  mighty."  I  feel  so,  neither  in 
body  nor  mind;  solitary  walks  by  the  sea,  tho'  a 
high  indulgence,  if  too  long  continued,  lead  to  serious 
and  sad  reflections  and  shew  the  trifling  purposes  of 
this  world,  and  its  real  but  unattainable  blessings  in 
too  true  a  light. 

To-morrow  I  will  go  to  Goodwood  for  some  days, 
and  then  return  here,  for  not  long.  I  wish  to  be  with 
Mr.  [Walpole],  or  within  his  reach,  when  you  begin  your 
journey,  for  I  am  the  only  one  to  whom  he  can,  or  will, 
tell  his  anxieties,  and  numberless  they  will  be.  The 
French  continue  li feeding  him  "  as  Jerningham  calls  it, 
and  with  all  sorts  of  atrocious  and  unwholesome  food. 
I  hear  of  him,  now,  however,  in  town  and  in  good 
spirits,  also  my  parents,  who,  I  believe,  intend  coming  to 
Goodwood  next  month. 

You  are  most  kind  in  what  you  say  about  the 
u  mother!*  I  do  see  her  constantly  when  she  is  in  town  ; 
a  day  scarcely  ever  passes  but  I  see  her  at  some  time  or 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  69 

other.  Often  she  comes  to  me  because  it  suits  us  both 
better,  not  from  neglect  on  my  part ;  but  then  I  see  her 
for  a  moment,  a  hurried  quarter  of  an  hour,  which 
makes  it  seem  not  worth  mentioning,  and  I  thought  you 
knew  the  style,  but  how  should  you  ?  Her  coming  is 
never  to  be  depended  on,  but  as  it  happens  at  moments 
of  interval  from  pleasure  or  amusement,  and  they  are 
not,  believe  me,  long.  The  very  morning  I  came  away 
her  maid  came  mincing  across  the  garden,  just  as  I  was 
starting  out,  to  tell  me  that  she  was  awake  and  wished 
to  see  me ;  and  there  I  found  her  and  her  husband  and 
two  beautiful  children  playing  on  the  bed.  Constantly 
I  write  and  hear  from  her,  tho'  not,  indeed,  long  letters  ; 
that  would  be  to  me  impossible,  in  short,  the  intimacy, 
tho'  not  the  friendship,  still  exists  to  me ;  the  difference  is 
infinite,  total ;  on  her  side,  if  I  mistake  not,  almost  com- 
paratively trifling.  All  real  comfort  there  was  taken 
from  me  for  ever  at  one  instant,  now  six  years  ago ;  yet 
so  sacred  is  the  name  of  friendship  and  true  affection, 
with  me,  so  hard  to  conquer,  that  I  could  not  totally 
give  up  one  I  had  so  long  respected  and  esteemed,  some 
of  whose  errors  I  had  seen  and  lamented,  but  doubted 
not  a  reveille ' ;  and  I  am  still  at  a  loss  to  comprehend 
how  such  a  character  should  lose  itself  without  resource. 
If,  indeed,  I  ever  do  see  any  of  these  fortunate  days,  and 
that  I  have  power,  I  will  explain  all  this  to  you,  tho' 
scenes  unfit  for  a  mind  like  yours ;  but  I  should  have  a 
particular  satisfaction  in  hearing  your  opinion.  In  the 
meantime  do  not  think  that  my  "magnifying  powers" 
created  a  phantom  such  as  I  would  have  a  friend,  and 
because  it  was  not  realised  destroyed  it  myself,  indeed, 
indeed,  this  was  not  so.  I  always  knew  there  was  not 
everything  I  wished,  but  then  thought  that  impossible, 
and  the  pains  that  were  taken  to  deceive  me  on  one  sub- 
ject were  such  as  could  not,  nay,  I  may  almost  say  ought 
not,  to  fail,  and  would  have  probably  continued  to  suc- 
ceed, had  it  not  been  for  an  unforeseen  circumstance. 


70  BERRY    PAPERS 

Can  you  make  anything  of  these  dark  confused  lines  ? 
I  think  not,  but  they  shall  go. 

Do  not  doubt  my  passion  for  stories ;  where  I  am 
interested  no  princess  of  romance  ever  loved  them  more, 
but  then  I  often  wish  my  confidante  to  speak  for  me, 
because,  ten  to  one  she  would  do  it  better.  To  be  most 
serious,  I  told  you  one,  alas  !  too  true,  which  cost  me 
more  than  any  can  guess,  and  the  reflection,  at  times, 
almost  gets  the  better  of  me.  All  that  good-nature,  pity, 
and  generosity  could  dictate,  I  was  sure  of  from  you  ; 
but  whatever  your  indulgence,  I  did,  and  must,  change 
your  opinion  of  me,  and  that  in  the  last  moments  I  saw 
you,  and  I  felt  that  time  and  future  marks  of  kindness 
and  confidence  alone  would  thoroughly  convince  me 
that  with  such  errors  you  could  still  love  me.  I  need 
not  therefore,  say  if  I  have  had  even  additional  satis- 
faction in  the  kindness  of  your  letters,  nor  how  deeply 
I  have  felt  the  assurances  of  your  unaltered  affection 
and  regard. 

Goodwood,  Saturday  Morning. 

On  reading  this  over,  I  hesitate  if  I  should  send  it, 
I  dread  so  much  giving  you  a  false,  not  a  true,  opinion 
of  me ;  for  there  I  wish  to  meet  my  fate,  certain  that 
ivomyou  it  will  be  just.  As  to  that  I  last  said,  you  are 
aware,  my  dearest  friend,  that  I  make  a  wide  distinction 
between  those  whom  you  look  on  as  acquaintance,  and 
those  whom  you  deign  to  distinguish.  With  the  first 
your  knowledge  of  the  world  and  your  own  superior 
sense  will  make  you  most  indulgent,  while  the  latter  will 
meet,  if  not  in  the  same  degree,  yet  with  the  same  sort 
of  severity  as  that  with  which  you  would  judge  yourself. 
Am  1  not  right  ?  Forgive  what  I  have  said,  perhaps  a 
useless  repetition,  yet  of  what  I  think,  you  say  you 
would  have  me  write,  and  in  all  I  have  said  I  meant  but 
to  express  my  gratitude  to  you.  Think  of  it  no  other- 
wise. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  71 

Sunday  Morning,  August  28. 

We  have  here  only  Madame  de  Cambis,1  who  I  think 
must  ennuyer  herself  un  peu  while  the  rest  of  the 
company  make  out  the  day,  as  to  that,  in  their  different 
ways  perfectly  well.  It  is  the  easiest  of  all  houses  and 
every  one  may  do  what  thing  they  please.  There  is, 
also,  something  constantly  going  on,  where  one  may 
pick  up  some  scraps  of  knowledge  or  information.  At 
present  it  is  chemistry.  He2  has  a  regular  laboratory, 
where  one  of  his  secretaries  presides,  who  is  a  lad 
uncommonly  well  informed  and  sensible.  He  has 
again  begun  a  course  of  lectures  for  me,  at  which  all 
those  who  chuse  it  attend.  Madame  de  C[ambis]  came 
yesterday  evening.  I  need  not  describe  her.  I  am  sure 
she  was  the  only  one  of  us  all,  who  had  no  interest  in 
what  was  going  on,  suffice  it  to  say.  Then  the  Duke 
has  a  very  good  band  belonging  to  his  regiment  of 
militia,  and  regularly  in  the  next  room  to  where  we  sit. 
They  play  every  evening.  All  this,  you  will  say  might 
satisfy  Madame  de  C[ambis]  sed  non  il  Hoc  erat  in  votis  !  " 
She  has  an  unsurmountable  crossness.  So  much  acid  is 
diffused  in  her  composition  that  it  eternally  starts  forth 
and  often  when  one  least  expects  it — such  a  comical 
contrast  with  the  placidity  of  a  character  I  was  trying 
to  give  you  an  idea  of  in  my  last,  that  it  is  diverting  to 
see.  Au  reste,  there  is  always  something  decousu  in  this 
house,  which  does  not  disturb  me,  but  does  most 
others.3 

I  left  a  corner  that  if  I  had  a  letter  to-day  I  might 

1  Madame  de  Cambis,  a  niece  of  the  Marquise  de  Boufflers,  fled  to 
England  at  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  lived  at  Richmond 
until  her  death  in  January  1809.  She  was  at  one  time  a  nun  in  the  convent  of 
St.  Cyr,  and  was  described  at  the  age  of  forty,  by  George  Selwyn,  as  being 
"  as  beautiful  as  a  Madonna." 

2  The  host  of  Goodwood,  the  Duke  of  Richmond. 
8  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  22. 


72  BERRY    PAPERS 

tell  you.  I  need  not  say  that  I  do  not  expect  to  hear 
from  you  every  time  I  think  of  hearing  from  you  ;  that 
would  be  often  indeed. 

Farewell,  and  heaven  bless  you. 


The  Berrys,  who  had  now  been  absent  from  Eng- 
land for  nearly  a  year,  decided  to  return,  and  Mary 
informed  Horace  Walpole  that  their  route  from  Florence 
would  be  by  way  of  Bologna,  Padua,  Verona,  Trent, 
Innspruck,  Augsburg,  Ulm,  Schaffhausen,  Basle,  and 
Paris.  Walpole  was  horrified  that  they  should  think 
of  travelling  across  France  in  the  unsettled  state  of 
that  country,  and  wrote  imploring  them  not  to  do  so. 
"  Mr.  Berry  does  not  as  a  father  meditate  your  happiness 
more  than  I  do,  nor  has  purer  affection  for  you  both  ; 
no,  though  a  much  younger  man,  has  he  less  of  that 
weakness  that  often  exposes  old  men."  He  sent  a 
letter,  dated  September  18  to  Mary  to  meet  her  at 
Basle.  "  I  am  vain  of  my  attachment  to  two  such 
understandings  and  hearts  ;  the  cruel  injustice  of  fortune 
makes  me  proud  of  trying  to  smooth  one  of  her  least 
rugged  frowns ;  but  even  this  theme  I  must  drop,  as 
you  have  raised  a  still  more  cruel  fear !  You  talk 
uncertainly  of  your  route  thro'  France  or  its  borders, 
and  you  bid  me  not  be  alarmed  !  Oh  !  can  you  conjure 
down  that  apprehension  !  I  have  scarce  a  grain  of 
belief  in  German  armies  marching  against  the  French, 
yet  what  can  I  advise  who  know  nothing  but  from  the 
loosest  reports  ?  Oh  !  I  shall  abhor  myself — yes,  abhor 
myself ! — if  I  have  drawn  you  from  the  security  of 
Florence  to  the  smallest  risk,  or  even  inconvenience. 
My  dearest  friends,  return  thither,  stay  there,  stop  in 
Switzerland,  do  anything  but  hazard  yourselves.     I  be- 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  73 

seech  you,  I  implore  you,  do  not  venture  thro'  France, 
for  tho'  you  may  come  from  Italy,  and  have  no  connec- 
tion of  any  sort  on  the  whole  Continent,  you  may  meet 
with  incivilities  and  trouble,  which  even  pretty  women, 
that  are  no  politicians,  may  be  exposed  to  in  a  country 
so  unsettled  as  France  is  at  present.  If  there  is  truth 
in  my  soul,  it  is  that  I  would  give  up  all  my  hopes 
of  seeing  you  again,  rather  than  have  you  venture  on 
the  least  danger  of  any  sort.  When  a  storm  could 
terrify  me  out  of  my  senses  last  year,  do  you  think, 
dearest  souls,  that  I  can  have  any  peace  till  I  am  sure 
of  your  safety  ?  and  to  risk  it  for  me  !  Oh  !  horrible ! 
I  cannot  bear  the  idea ! "  The  Berrys,  who  had  left 
Florence  on  September  17,  did  not,  however,  even  in 
the  face  of  this  frantic  appeal,  alter  their  plans. 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 
Strawberry  Hill,  Friday  Morning,  September  23,  1791. 

I  have  always  a  particular  pleasure  in  writing  to 
you  when  I  can  tell  you  anything  certain  of  our  dear 
friend.  I  know  that  you  depend  on  the  exact  truth 
of  what  I  say,  and  feel  then  of  use  and  comfort  to 
you.  I  found  him,  yesterday  evening  when  I  arrived 
between  six  and  seven,  sitting,  making  his  tea,  dressed 
in  his  best  wig,  and  looking  well,  and  in  spirits,  and 
prepared  for  making  a  visit.  As  to  health,  he  only 
complained  of  not  having  perfectly  recovered  the  use 
of  his  right  arm  since  his  last  attack,  but  said  it  had 
given  him  no  pain.  My  mother,  &c,  returned  to  [Park] 
Place,  which  left  me  at  liberty,  and  as  I  felt  after  the 
time  I  had  promised  you,  and  myself  to  see  Mr. 
W[alpole],  I  determined  to  come  here  first  in  my  way  to 
town.  I  brought  Madame  de  Cam[bis],  whom  I  dropped 
at  Richmond,  and  Louisa,  whom  my  mother  sends  to 


74  BERRY    PAPERS 

school.  I  could  only  let  Mr.  W[alpole]  know  my 
intention  on  the  very  day  I  was  to  arrive,  and  that 
not  certainly,  as  I  depended  on  others.  The  tea 
over,  Louisa  went  into  her  room.  I  saw  that  he  was 
all  impatience  and  bursting  with  something  he  wanted 
to  say  to  me.  She  had  scarcely  shut  the  door  when 
his  face  changed,  and  with  an  expression  of  much 
concern  he  told  me  that  you  was  to  come  through 
France.  On  my  trying  to  comfort  him,  and  saying 
what  I  really  now  in  a  great  measure  think,  he  quite 
hurt  me  by  suddenly  checking  himself  and  saying,  "  that 
one  had  better  keep  one's  ideas  and  anxieties  to  one- 
self "  or  [words]  to  that  effect.  I  am  sure  if  partaking 
them  gives  a  right  I  have  as  good  a  right  as  himself. 
This,  you  will  guess  did  not  last,  but  I  see  that  reason 
will  not  do  ;  it  is  the  very  thing  he  cannot  bear,  and 
were  I  to  persist,  he  would  only  bottle  up  all  anxieties 
and  grievances  and  render  their  qualities  ten  times 
more  pernicious  by  confinement.  I  mean,  therefore,  for 
these  six  weeks  to  come,  to  indulge  him  in  his  own 
way,  keeping,  however,  as  much  as  possible,  alarms 
from  him,  and  giving  where  I  can  the  most  probable 
turn  to  reports  to  quiet  his  mind. 

He  then  talked  of  you  in  the  most  touching  manner, 
fetched  your  last  letter,  and  told  me,  with  much  regret, 
what  he  had  said  to  you,  seemed  both  hurt  and  charmed 
at  you  having  a  society  you  prefer,  and  a  country  you 
like,  and  returning  for  him  alone.  He  had  not,  I  find, 
the  most  distant  notion  of  your  passing  the  " can's"  and 
I  wish  you  had  not  told  him  so  soon  of  your  intention, 
which  he  has  converted  into  a  certainty.  In  short,  an 
idea  must  never  be  started  with  him,  about  certain 
persons,  for  wild  fire  is  not  quicker,  nor  more  ungovern- 
able. Not  that  I  in  the  least  wonder  at  you,  for  nothing 
is  so  uncomfortable  as  keeping  anything  from  those  we 
really  love  that  interests  them,  and,  as  I  once  said 
before,  you  can  not  see  him  when  you  are  absent.    To- 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  75 

day,  however,  his  mind  seemed  much  more  composed, 
and  I  was  much  satisfied  with  him.  The  newspapers 
came  full  of  all  that  could  confirm  the  ideas  I  have  tried 
to  give  him  of  the  present  state  of  things  ;  and  even  the 
violents  here  are  fallen  into  despair  and  dejection,  and 
no  longer  dream  and  talk  of  visionary  armies,  march- 
ings, plots,  and  plunders,  but  seem  to  give  up  all  for 
lost. 

He  has  promised  to  write  to  you  by  Tuesday's  post, 
which  he  seemed  not  to  intend,  wanting  to  prove  that 
now  he  had  no  direction,  just  as  we  love  to  fill  up  the 
measure  of  faults  in  what  we  dislike,  and  this  route  is 
tolerably  odious  to  him,  but  I  begged  of  him  to  tell  you 
that  what  he  heard  had  made  his  mind  more  calm,  as 
he  allowed  it  to  be  so,  and  not  to  distress  you  more 
than  rightly  by  the  idea  of  his  fears  and  disapprobation, 
since  both  were  relaxed.  I  really  think  that  everything 
will  contribute  to  quiet  this  " perturbed  spirit"  of  his,  but 
he  has  such  starts  !  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him 
as  we  went  to  Cliveden,  the  joy,  comfort,  and  satisfaction 
with  which  he  talked  of  you,  as  giving  him  a  new 
existence,  and  an  interest  even  in  Strawb[erry  Hill]  its 
keeping  and  improvements,  because  you  would  see  them, 
that  he  never  otherwise  could  feel,  fortunate  senex,  non 
equidem  invideo. 

London,  Tuesday,  September  27. 

On  my  arrival  on  Saturday,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
finding  a  letter  from  you,  and  the  comfort  of  tracing 
the  kind  hand  of  friendship  in  your  solicitude  for  me. 
You  will  find  your  opinion  justified  by  my  subsequent 
letters,  and  that  solitude  prolonged  too  long  struck  me 
nearly  in  the  same  light  as  you.  Its  charms  are  power- 
ful and  may  be  pernicious,  but  to  be  sometimes  alone  is 
surely  not  an  "  excess."  What  can  I  do  when  depression 
of  spirits,  anxiety,  or  ill  health,  renders  me  unfit  at  times, 
for  society  ?     You  will  not  coldly  say,  do  not  be  de- 


76  BERRY    PAPERS 

pressed,  do  not  be  anxious.  It  would  be  to  me,  as  if 
you  said,  do  not  be  ill.  Your  anger  against  poor 
Felpham  diverts  me,  and  your  idea  of  my  spoiling  the 
little  wax  head  for  want  of  amusement.  As  to  Felpham, 
tho'  I  do  not  otherwise  feel  to  regret  the  time  I  passed 
there,  I  actually  shortened  the  time  on  your  representa- 
tions, and  would  most  willingly  have  given  it  totally  up 
had  I  received  them  sooner.  If  you  do  not  like  the 
head  when  you  see  it,  I  can  alter  it  or  model  another 
and  the  artist  "  dum  spiritus  regit  artus "  at  your  com- 
mands. I  will  not  now  attempt  answering  the  first  part 
of  your  letter  more  fully,  I  feel  that  I  should  not  do  it 
at  all  to  my  own  satisfaction,  but  at  some  future  time  I 
shall  hope,  that  we  may  together,  treat  these  subjects. 
You  will  not,  on  any,  find  me  very  obstinate. 

I  this  instant  receive  a  few  lines  from  Mr.  W[alpole], 
He  tells  me  that  he  has  had  a  letter  of  the  5th  (I  left  him 
in  one  of  his  usual  fusses  about  the  post)  and  that  you  are 
to  meet  L.  B.  at  Anussa,  who,  he  has  heard,  likes  your 
sister,  and  of  a  signalement  of  the  person  of  Madame  de 
Merepoix  ;  these  signalements  or  descriptive  paper  posts 
are  one  of  his  terrors.  I  shall  tell  him  that  I  suppose 
he  imagines  that  no  creature  can  describe  the  charms 
of  his  wives,  and  that,  for  that  reason,  they  will  be 
stopped  by  the  next  revenue  inspector,  as  counterfeit 
and  confined  for  life.  No  wonder  he  dreads  liberty 
if  it  gives  such  powers,  dear  man  ! 

You  will  see,  by  the  former  part  of  my  letter,  that, 
as  you  imagined,  he  felt  severely  and  regretted  what  he 
had  said  to  you  on  the  subject  of  your  delay.  "  Un- 
hinged" is  an  admirable  expression,  it  is  the  very  thing. 
I  believe  one  should  not  write  u  while  under  too  strong 
impressions  of  anxiety,"  and  yet,  after  all,  by  some 
very,  very,  few,  one  likes  to  be  written  to. 

I  have  been  to  the  Play,  and  constantly  in  the 
evening  to  the  Materfamilias  who  stays  at  home,  on 
account   of  the  confinement  of  her   son,  who   really  is, 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  77 

at  this  moment,  a  melancholy  spectacle,  and  will,  I 
fear,  be  a  sad  example  as  to  both  body  and  mind  of  the 
folly  and  dissipation  that  so  much  prevails.  I  have  also 
seen  Mrs.  Buller,  who  means  to  go  to  Paris  in  a  week 
or  ten  days ;  if  so  you  will  meet  her.  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  shall  venture  to  tell  this  to  Mr.  Wfalpole].  She 
said,  herself,  that  she  had  not  had  the  courage,  for  his 
violence  is  notorious.  I  have,  as  I  believe  I  told  you, 
been  much  disappointed  at  her  not  passing  the  summer 
at  Twickenham],  which  she  intended,  and  she  would 
have  talked  sense  to  him  and  amused  him,  and,  quod 
omnia  superat,  he  likes  her.  I  much  doubt  if  I  shall 
get  him  to  town,  tho'  I  am  the  more  anxious  for  having 
been  struck  with  the  cold  and  damp  of  Strawb[erry 
Hill]  on  my  arrival  from  Sussex.  Asked  to  come  to 
another  climate,  his  answer  was,  "  I  shall  come  when 
they  do  "  (the  others)  and  then,  "  we  will  talk  of  that 
another  time." 

Afterwards,  with  more  confidence,  he  said,  that  it 
depended  on  future  accounts,  for  that  his  anxieties  were 
more  unsupportable  to  him  in  London,  for  he  could 
not  indulge  them  so  freely  as  at  Strawb[erry  Hill]  I 
return  thither  on  Friday  next,  go  the  day  following  to 
P[ark]  P[lace],  and  he  is  to  come  on  Sunday.  I 
am  to  carry  Madame  de  Cfambis].  The  Poet1  is  also 
to  meet  us.  I  mean  to  stay  only  about  a  week  or  ten 
days,  and  after  that,  not  to  be  much  out  of  town.  I 
must  settle  to  my  work  when  I  can  work  and  get  my 
colossus 2  over,  or  it  will  never  be  finished.  I  have,  I 
think,  given  you  my  whole  history,  and  this  I  reckon 
in  one  sense  my  last  letter,  for  I  should  not,  even  on 
any  subject  that  is  interesting,  choose  to  write  very 
particularly  to  Canne  Calia.  I  am,  I  understand,  to 
direct   to   Perregaux.     Vale  ergo  et  metnor  esto   nostra. 

1  Alfieri. 

8  The  statue  of  George  III.    See  ante,  p.  45. 


78  BERRY    PAPERS 

Remember,  you  need  not  visit  Madame  Martin.  This 
is,  as  you  directed,  my  second  letter  to  Basle.  Farewell, 
and  once  more  farewell.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

P[ark]  Place,  Tuesday  Morning,  October  4,  1791. 

Our  friend  arrived  here  as  you  will  have  known,  on 
Sunday.  I  was  half  tempted  to  avail  myself  of  his  direc- 
tion to  Augsburg  ; 2  but  I  had  no  letters  begun,  what  was 
most  essential  and  interesting  I  knew  he  would  tell  you, 
and  when  I  can  I  avoid  writing  on  the  same  day,  besides 
I  like  scrupulously  to  obey  your  mandates.  Your 
reasons  I  cannot  always  know,  but  never  can  doubt. 
This  I  mean,  in  general,  but  tho'  I  know  not  when  or 
where  to  send  this,  I  shall  not  deny  myself  the  satisfac- 
tion of  thanking  you  for  your  kind  letters  of  the  12th 
September,  which  I  received  on  Sunday  by  Mr. 
W[alpole]'s  letter.  You  are  actually  set  out,  and  I  must 
figure  you  as  exposed  to  the  fatigues  and  "  uncomforts," 
at  least,  of  a  tedious  journey  at  a  late  season.  You 
know,  too,  if  I  feel  for  you,  and  regret  for  you,  your 
quiet,  your  comfort,  the  divine  climate  you  leave  and 
the  perfections  of  Art  to  which  you  are  sensible. 
There  is  something,  to  me  most  touching  in  that  sym- 
pathy of  taste  I  can  so  often  trace,  more  than  my 
vanity  is  gratified.  I  was  not,  you  will  see,  obstinate 
about  my  "gothic  "-named  place,  and  allow  your  quota- 
tion to  be  uncommonly  just,  yet  I  passed  many  quiet 
hours  there,  and  for  that  feel  grateful. 

Wednesday  Morning. — Mr.  W[alpole]  was  well  enough 
yesterday  for  me  to  drive  him  out  in  the  little  chaise, 
tho'   to   say   the   truth,   /  thought   the   day  too   damp 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  24. 

2  The  Berrys  stayed  some  days  at  Augsburg,  and  left  on  October  18 
for  Ulm. 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  79 

for  him,  but  he  would  go  ;  and  to-day  he  proposes  stay- 
ing at  Windsor,  to  see  St.  George's  Hall.  His  spirits 
are  much  better,  and  his  anxieties  more  tractable  since 
his  last  letters ;  but  all  this,  as  you  know,  liable  to  sad 
vicissitudes.  I  wish  to  God  that  I  could  keep  him  here 
a  few  days  longer ;  for  I  really  dread  him  returning  to 
his  neighbourhood,  some  " desertus  vicus"  would  just 
then  be  far  preferable.  On  the  day  he  arrived  here, 
Mad[ame]  de  C[ambis]  received  letters  from  her 
brother-in-law  with  a  circumstantial  account  of  united 
forces  being  immediately  to  be  put  in  action,  and  of  the 
Embassies  and  ministers  from  the  Courts  being  actually 
recalled.  Judge  of  the  effect  this  will  have  on  the  mind 
of  our  friend,  with  the  addition  of  my  father's  military 
eloquence,  who  never  would  dream  of  his  fears  and 
alarms.  I  thought  it  better  to  prevent  this  and  save 
him  at  least  so  many  days'  anxiety,  even  supposing  this 
account  true,  and  begged  of  M[adame]  de  C[ambis]  not 
to  mention  her  letters.  She  perfectly  understood  me, 
and  was  good-natured  about  it.  My  father  gave  way, 
and  my  mother  approved.  It  so  happened  that  the 
clique  where  he  had  passed  the  evening  on  Saturday  had 
not  heard  the  news.  I  have,  therefore,  taken  the 
chances.  At  his  return  (if  this  account  is  true)  he  may 
find  a  letter  mentioning  a  change  of  route  ;  indeed,  the 
hurry  and  bustle  of  part  of  the  army  would  not  be 
pleasant  to  pass.  I  still  think  it  likely  that  you  may 
come  thro'  France,  and  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  wish  it. 
Upon  the  whole  a  little  time  passed  at  Paris  will  amuse 
you  ;  all  there  is  quiet. 

When  you  wrote  you  knew  not  of  the  King's 
acceptation,  nor  the  regulations  made  by  the  National 
Assembly  for  the  free  passage  of  travellers.  I  know 
what  travelling  in  Germany  is,  at  best  sandy  roads,  and 
cold  or  suffocating  stoves ;  and  now  the  extortions  of 
innkeepers,  and  want  of  horses  must  be  increased,  and 
at   this  season   the   views   of  the   country  cannot,  by 


80  BERRY    PAPERS 

mental  charms,  make  you  forget  corporeal  evils.  What- 
ever be  your  route,  I  shall  not  expect  often  to  hear  from 
you.  Certainly  I  know  what  writing  upon  a  journey  is, 
how  difficult,  even  when  alone,  to  find  time  for  above 
one  letter.  Indeed,  of  whatever  satisfaction  I  may  be 
deprived,  my  confidence  in  your  kindness  is  a  comfort 
not  in  the  power  of  fortune  now  to  deny  me.  I  thank 
you  for  what  you  so  kindly  say  about  seeing  me  at  your 
first  return ;  that  will  depend  on  circumstances,  I  mean 
on  our  friend.  I  would  indeed  most  willingly  sacrifice 
even  to  his  "  Quips"  and  "  Quidities,"  but  I  should  not 
easily  think  any  wish  he  might  have  on  that  occasion 
came  under  that  denomination.  Tis  ten  to  one  you 
may  be  your  own  messenger  to  him ;  if  otherwise, 
depend  on  it,  I  shall  delay  my  own  satisfaction  unless 
certain  that  it  not  in  the  least  interferes  with  his.  I  well 
know  all  I  owe  him,  and  of  that  grow  every  day  more 
sensible.  'Tis  a  debt  I  would  be  always  paying  and 
never  have  paid.  You  will  have  seen  by  his  last  letter, 
that  he  not  at  all  wished  you  to  come  first  to  Cliveden, 
except  on  the  supposition  of  your  home  in  town  not 
being  vacant.  That  is  exactly  so,  I  am  persuaded,  and 
for  his  sake  you  had  far  better  make  him  come  to  town. 
I  quite  dread  the  cold  and  damp  of  Straw[berry  Hill] 
for  him,  and  should  he  be  confined  there,  which  Heaven 
forbid  and  which  I  see  at  present  no  reason  to  fear,  but 
still  the  gout  does  so  often  attack  him  with  more  or  less 
violence,  that  it  ought  to  come  into  the  calculation  of 
those  who  really  love  him,  should  he  be  ill,  it  would  fret 
him  to  death  to  keep  you  in  the  country;  but  I  trust  this 
is  decided,  and  I  need  say  no  more.  You  will,  after 
your  return,  choose  a  day  for  Cliveden,  and  I  doubt  not, 
he  will  propose  an  early  one.  When  I  was  last  at 
Strawb[erry  Hill]  I  quite  seriously  begged  him  to  spare 
me,  but  he  continues  on  all  occasions  the  same 
melancholy  turn  of  ideas,  a  habit  in  which  he  seems  to 
delight   and   tacks   to   all   subjects.     I   trust    when   his 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  81 

dearest  friends  return  that,  as  the  present  will  have  so 
many  charms,  the  future  will  be  left  in  favour. 

Saturday  morning. — I  this  moment  receive  your  letter 
from  Bologna.  Few  persons  are  so  good  as  their 
words  ;  you  are  better,  and  better  than  their  best.  You 
judge  rightly  as  to  the  details  of  your  accident,  which 
you  send  me  and  withhold  from  Mr.  W[alpole].  You 
indulge  me  and  spare  him.  You  will  afterwards  laugh 
with  him  at  his  fears,  and  recount  your  adventures : — 
"  forsan  et  hcec  olim  meminisse  juvabit ;  "  yet  I  am  not 
certain  that  he  will  bear  the  name  of  your  journey  but 
should,  since  it  brings  you  to  him. 

I  am  quite  glad  that  I  have  so  often  represented  to 
you  in  the  most  lively  colours  (at  least,  of  my  palette) 
all  his  fusses,  fears,  and  "jellies,"  as  this  will  make  you 
the  more  cautious  in  what  you  write,  and  help  to  give 
you  some  idea  of  his  anxieties.  I  long  now  to  be  with  him, 
for  he  will  be  dying  to  talk  this  delay  over.  I  shall  let 
him  first  tell  me  all  he  knows,  and  then  dwell  on  what- 
ever is  most  likely  to  quiet  his  mind.  I  am  quite  glad, 
since  your  carriage  was  to  break,1  which  by  what  you  say, 
seems,  to  me,  a  necessity,  that  it  happened  so  as  to 
delay  you  at  a  place  where  there  is  so  much  worth 
seeing, — nay,  I  believe  I  am  very  near  glad  you  were 
detained,  but  the  cold  journey,  and  horses,  the  tot 
pericula  maris  stare  me  in  the  face.  But  well  I  know 
all  the  circumsequentia  of  a  carriage  breaking.  Tecum 
fuissem — not  that  I  should  be  of  much  use ;  courage,  if  I 
have  it,  I  am  sure  you  do  not  want ;   patience  we  will 

1  "  Sunday,  September  18, 1791. — About  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Loiana,  the 
perch  of  our  carriage  broke  almost  in  two  ;  luckily  the  body  only  fell  forward 
upon  the  box,  and  we  all  got  out  without  being  either  frightened  or  hurt ; 
luckily,  also,  there  was  a  sort  of  blacksmith's  shop — a  solitary  cottage — in  a 
valley  just  below  where  the  accident  happened,  and  from  thence  the  people 
came  running  up  with  wood  and  cord,  and  they  and  the  voiturier,  and  some 
occasional  passengers  upon  the  road,  helped  to  tie  it  up  together,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  drag  it  along." — Mary  Berry's  Journals,  i.  354.  The  carriage  was 
properly  repaired  at  Bologna,  which  the  travellers  reached  the  same  night. 

F 


82  BERRY    PAPERS 

not  talk  of ;  but  I  have  a  certain  spirit  that,  on  such 
occasions,  rises  to  a  wonderful  degree.  It  is  no  merit, 
being  merely  a  useful  ingredient  in  my  composition, 
given  me  by  Nature,  but  it  makes  me  a  good  travelling 
companion,  as  far  as  it  goes. 

Sunday. — I  was  called  away  yesterday,  and  then  we 
passed  the  day  out.  M[adame]  de  C[ambis]  received 
from  the  same  persons  a  direct  contradiction  of  the 
news  I  mentioned  in  the  first  part  of  this  letter,  very 
pleasing  to  me.  If  you  should  go  by  Ostend,  write  to 
[illegible]  for  a  Packet,  and  do  not  go  in  a  Dutch  vessel. 
Many  will  tell  you  they  are  as  safe,  which  is  no  such 
thing,  and  I  know  their  inconvenience.  Remember  that 
I  seriously  entreat  this. 

That  I  may  not  again  omit  what  I  have  to  say  of  the 
Marchesa,  which  I  did  in  my  last,  thinking  little  it 
would  in  any  way  affect  you,  I  must  tell  you  that  on  no 
account  must  you  come  to  England  with  her  in 
company.  Her  conduct  is  now  much  talked  of,  much 
and  justly  censured.  She  has  written  the  most  absurd 
letters  to  her  husband,  in  the  last  (Jer[ningham]  told 
me)  she  absolutely  refuses  to  return  ;  she  says  u  if  he 
uses  the  authority  of  a  husband  he  will  drag  back  a 
corpse,"  if  he  withholds  his  remittances  she  will  try  to 
live  by  her  talent  (maigre  chere,  I  fear),  and  if  that  fails, 
take  refuge  in  a  convent,  qui  lui  tends  les  bras.  He  has, 
I  understand,  declared  that  he  will  not  withhold  his 
remittances.  By  what  you  say  I  suspect  she  is  grown 
frightened  at  her  own  situation,  and  means  now  to  return. 
All  this  is  indeed  strangely  "mysterious,"  and  there 
appears  a  duplicity  in  telling  you  that  her  husband  did 
not  send  her  "  the  means  "  of  returning,  at  the  moment, 
almost,  when  she  was  protesting  these  fantastical 
absurdities.  I  have  no  great  opinion  of  the  "  principal 
coachmaker  "  at  B[ologna].  I  hope  your  friends  "  the 
Legges,"  who  I  dare  say  are  notable  people,  will  superin- 
tend the  work,  and  that  you  will  cast  your  own  eyes  upon 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  83 

it.  They  can,  I  am  certain,  be  mechanical  upon  occasion. 
I  hope  too  that  they  will  make  you  a  new  train  and 
not  attempt  repairing  the  broken  one.  I  much  regretted 
its  being  perch  carriage,  yet  that,  abroad,  I  believe,  they 
will  better  imitate  than  they  could  one  of  our  cranes. 
Perhaps  you  may  find  a  carriage,  I  mean  a  train,  ready, 
that  may  be  adapted  to  your  coach.  If  this  delay  should 
be  considerable,  it  would  be  very  serious,  but  I  will  hope 
till  I  hear  again. 

If  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  what  is  nearest  my  heart, 
your  kind  assurances,  doubt  not  but  that  all  is  treasured 
up  there,  not  a  single  word  you  have  said  will  be  for- 
gotten. 'Tis  a  subject,  heaven  knows !  on  which  I 
often  want  comfort.  I  shall  venture  to  send  this  to 
Augsburg,  tho'  it  can  only  go  on  the  nth  from 
London.  I  cannot,  till  I  am  in  town,  know  the  time 
letters  be  going,  but  I  trust  to  your  canonicus.  Your 
"penetration  "  is  perfect.  **  Quidam  est  Rex."  The  circum- 
stances relative  to  the  materf  [amilias]  you  cannot  know, 
even  had  you  been  in  "  the  world." x  'Twas  a  most  un- 
expected confidence  made  me  by  a  person  concerned.  Hoc 
coram.  Farewell,  and  God  bless  you.  I  shall  send  this 
to-day..  Sunday,  9th  October. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Monday  Morning,  October  18,  1791. 

I  have  not  half  thanked  you  for  your  last  kind  letter. 
I  wish  I  could  convey  to  you  an  idea  of  the  comfort  and 
satisfaction  it  gives  me,  but  you  will  not  feel  me  un- 
grateful, and,  I  trust,  are  in  some  degree  sensible  of  all  I 
must  feel.  I  have  trusted  to  your  suspending  your 
judgment  of  the  materf\amilias\  I  mean,  with  regard 
to  me.  It  will  seem  strange  that  I  should  allow  any 
person  concerned  to  make  me  this  sort  of  confidence,  but 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  26. 


84  BERRY    PAPERS 

circumstances,  on  which  so  often  hangs  the  right  and 
wrong  of  this  world,  will,  I  think,  justify  my  conduct. 
If  I  did  not  follow,  in  this,  the  strict  laws  of  friendship 
and  honour,  I  have  erred  most  unknowingly.  Your 
"  penetration "  will  show  you,  from  what  I  have  said, 
and  from  what  I  now  say,  that  a  character  I  had  looked 
up  to,  and  admired  for  a  thousand,  thousand  valuable 
qualities,  was  in  one  instant,  sunk  below  reproach,  and 
the  comforts  and  satisfactions  friendship  alone  can  give, 
and  to  which  I  looked  forward  with  so  much  pleasure, 
as  but  increasing  with  time,  suddenly  destroyed, — sed 
hoc  coram. 

I  need  not  say  that  I  long  to  hear  the  further  event 
of  your  accident.  I  am  not  so  much  rejoiced  at  your 
being  forced  to  see  and  "  resee  "  the  noble  pictures  at 
Bologna,  but  that  I  think  with  anxiety  of  a  delay  that 
may  occasion  forced  marches  or  a  still  later  and  colder 
journey.  This,  I  am  sure,  except  in  mind  you  are  not 
formed  to  bear. 

I  perfectly  understand,  why,  even  without  what  you, 
by  this  time,  will  have  known  of  the  Marchesa,  you 
should  not  choose  to  let  her  come  to  England  with  you, 
for  reasons  unnecessary  to  enumerate ;  for  Heaven's 
sake  get  rid  of  her  as  soon  as  you  can.  If  she  pursues 
you  upon  the  road, — but  I  am  talking  as  if  this  had  a 
chance  of  catching  you  in  any  time.  I  really  never 
knew  anything  so  odd  or  so  mysterious  as  her  conduct. 
What  you  tell  me,  and  what  I  have  heard  here,  involves 
her  in  ten  thousand  clouds  ;  without  a  miracle  she  can 
never  come  out  clear  enough  to  be  visible. 

London,  Thursday  Evening. 

I  stayed  at  Strawb[erry  Hill]  last  night,  and  to-day 
came  here.  Our  dear  friend  may,  I  think,  be  called  well 
so  far,  and  tolerable  as  to  anxieties.  I  am  convinced  that 
he  has  much  less  fear  about  the  German  road  than  the 
other,  I  mean  in  proportion.     He  does  not  seem  to  be 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  85 

alarmed  about  your  carriage,  and  suspects  nothing.  I, 
of  course,  encourage  this  good  disposition.  In  a  letter 
I  received  from  him  since  he  left  P[ark]  Place,  he  said, 
"indeed,  every  letter  that  tells  me  they  are  well  and 
nearer  and  safe  so  far  will  lessen  my  stock  of  uneasiness 
and  until  that  is  expended  I  cannot  think  of  complete 
satisfaction." 

I  think  I  mentioned  his  expedition  to  Windsor  with 
my  father.  I  should  tell  you  he  assures  me  that  he  was 
not  the  worse  for  his  fatigue  the  next  day.  He  intends 
coming  to  town  for  a  day  or  two  next  week,  upon  some 
business,  but  will  not  hear  of  staying  till  you  are  coming. 
I  wish  I  could  persuade  him,  but  I  have  no  such  power. 
I,  too,  saw  Windsor  in  my  way,  and  was  delighted.  It 
cannot  boast  such  pictures  as  you  have  been  admiring, 
but  the  chapel  is  really,  and  to  my  surprize  repaired  with 
true  taste,  and  beautiful.  I  hope  you  admire  Gothic. 
I  think  I  need  not  ask  you.  Gothic  in  the  grand  style 
quite  turns  my  head  whenever  I  see  it.  The  chapel  I 
now  speak  of  in  point  of  size  appeared  to  me  very 
small,  but  in  simplicity  and  beauty  of  architecture  very 
great.  The  materfam[ilias]  is  still  in  town,  and  still,  in 
general,  at  home,  tho'  to-morrow  or  next  day  they  talk 
of  making  a  visit  to  Bath.  I  am  going  (not  to  Bath) 
for  an  hour  there  this  evening,  and  I  will  go  now,  that 
I  may  come  back  soon,  for  I  have  a  nasty  toothache  and 
am  fit  for  nothing.     Good-night. 

Friday  Morning,  October  14. 

As  I  sent  you  no  letter  last  week,  I  shall  send  this, 
tho'  the  second  this  week,  as  Mr.  W[alpole],  I  know, 
does  not  write  by  to-day's  post,  and  that  you  may  be 
as  sure  as  I  can  make  you,  of  finding  at  least  one  letter 
at  Brussels,  for  I  do  not,  in  the  commonplace  way, 
expect  you  to  be  after  your  time,  unless  delayed  by 
accidents  or  illness,  to  Augsburg.  I  therefore  do  not 
write   again,  as  the   Postmaster   here   says   letters   are 


86  BERRY    PAPERS 

sometimes  three  weeks,  or  at  soonest  a  fortnight.  By 
your  letter  of  the  24th  to  Mr.  W[alpoleJ  I  should  con- 
clude that  you  found  less  difficulty  than  you  or  I  ex- 
pected, in  getting  your  carriage  mended.  I  wish  it  may 
best  be  securely  repaired,  for  I  know  what  patching  is, 
in  these  cases,  and  the  extreme  ignorance  of  foreign 
workmen. 

I  came  home,  as  I  said,  last  night,  my  toothache 
increased  sadly,  and  I  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
laudanum,  by  that  means  procured  a  tolerable  night's 
rest.  I  will  hope  that  it  is  over  to-day,  for  of  all  the 
bodily  pains,  and  God  knows !  they  are  many,  that 
I  ever  feel,  that  is  what  I  most  dread.  Indeed,  with  me 
it  always  carries  a  compound  of  a  thousand  others.  I 
really  grow  tired  of  suffering  and  much  incline  to  your 
philosophy,  at  times.  I  am  quite  reconciled  to  it  for 
myself  but  not  for  you,  that  is  the  truth,  and  that  might, 
I  think,  be  defended  without  sophistry ;  but  'tis  no 
matter,  this  is  only  by  the  by,  a  mere  parenthesis.  I 
am,  upon  the  whole,  better  than  I  have  been  for  a  long 
time,  and  going  now  to  recommence  artist,  and  pass  the 
days  in  my  study,  "  hac  amor."  My  colossus,  my  over- 
grown child,  will  not  for  an  age  be  fit  to  present  to  you, 
nor  can  I  myself  form  a  certain  judgment  of  it  yet,  for 
it  should  want  space  and  position,  and  be  like  Punch 
and  some  other  sovereigns,  nothing  off  their  own 
throne ;  but  for  this  I  can  answer  that  you  will  not  find 
me  "blindly  attached"  and  now  beforehand  even  entreat 
your  severest  criticism,  it  will  more  than  probably  be 
the  only  true  criticism  I  shall  hear.  You  will  find  me 
ready  to  alter  what  can  be  altered  and  to  allow  what 
cannot,  should  it  be  a  fault,  however  gross,  such  is  my 
opinion  of  your  "sixth  sense"  that,  had  I  been  less 
unfortunately  situated,  I  should  even  on  that  score  alone 
often  and  often  have  entreated  to  see  you  and  have 
asked  your  opinion,  tho'  I  confess  that  to  the  farrago 
of  flattery  and  criticism  I  am  constantly  exposed  to,  I 


THE    BERRYS    ABROAD  87 

try  to  make  myself  as  deaf  as  possible,  yet  not  from 
conceit  of  the  excellence  of  my  talent — do  not  think 
that,  for  you  would  wrong  me — merely  from  agreeing 
with  you  in  the  scarcity  of  the  "sixth  sense!'  I  desire 
that  I  may  have  the  hat  you  bought  for  me,  whether  it 
be  «  frightful  "  or  not. 

Farewell,  however  I  may  wish  to  hear  from  you  on 
the  route,  I  will  not,  indeed,  make  myself  uneasy  if  I 
do  not.  I  know  that  you  will  write  to  me  when  you 
can  and  sometimes  think  of  me  when  you  cannot.  I 
wish  to  God  Mr.  W[alpole]  would  come.  It  would,  I 
am  sure,  be  better  for  him,  and  I  should  then  know 
always  when  he  heard,  at  least,  how  far  you  were  on 
your  journey  and  guess  how  prosperously.  I  hope  that 
you  will  continue  not  to  tell  him  all.  Save  that  till  after 
you  return.  Remember  my  entreaty  about  the  Dutch 
vessel,  and  that  it  is  the  only  thing  of  the  sort  that  I  have 
pretended  to  entreat.  Farewell,  farewell,  and  God  bless 
you.  I  shall  probably  write  again  next  Friday  to 
Brussels.     One  letter  was  sent  to  Augsburg. 

Once  more  God  bless  you.1 

The  Berrys  arrived  at  Paris  on  October  28,  and  put 
up  at  the  Hotel  de  Bourbon  in  the  Rue  Jacob,  and 
there  they  stayed  until  November  7,  when  they  made 
their  way,  via  Calais  and  Dover,  to  their  house  in  North 
Audley  Street,  which  they  reached  on  November  11. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  28. 


SECTION    III 

THE   BERRYS  AT  LITTLE   STRAWBERRY  HILL 
(1792-I794) 

The  Berrys  return  to  England — Horace  Walpole  desires  them  to  live  at  Little 
Strawberry  Hill — Kitty  Clive — Walpole's  lines  to  her — A  newspaper 
attack  on  the  Berrys — Mary  Berry  thereupon  decides  not  to  live  at  Little 
Strawberry  Hill — Walpole  eventually  persuades  her  to  do  so — Walpole 
succeeds  to  the  earldom  of  Orford — His  distress  thereat — A  false  rumour 
that  he  proposed  marriage  to  Mary  Berry — A  proposal  of  marriage  to 
Anne  Seymour  Damer — William  Augustus  Fawkener — Correspondence 
between  Mary  Berry  and  Mrs.  Damer  concerning  the  proposed  marriage 
— The  Berrys  at  Sir  George  Cayley's — Lord  Orford  unwell — Lady 
Aylesbury  —  The  Berrys  at  Scarborough  —  Lord  Harrington  —  Field- 
Marshal  Conway — Jerningham's  play,  The  Siege  of  Berwick — "  Pretty  Mrs. 
Stanhope  " — Captain  Nugent — Lord  Moira  and  the  expedition  to  Brittany 
— Admiral  Lord  Howe — Mrs.  Darner's  bust  of  Miss  Berry — William 
Combe — The  Berrys  in  Yorkshire — They  return  to  Little  Strawberry 
Hill — Agnes  Berry  at  Cheltenham — Mary  and  Mr.  Berry  at  Park  Place 
— The  Berrys  at  Prospect  House,  Isle  of  Thanet — The  Greatheads — Mrs. 
Damer  at  Goodwood — Her  new  town  house — Professor  Playfair — Miss 
Berry's  play. 

HORACE  Walpole  was  delighted  at  the  return 
of  the  Berrys  to  England,  and  was  overjoyed 
when  he  succeeded  in  persuading  them  to 
take  possession  of  Little  Strawberry  Hill, 
on  the  lower  road  to  Teddington,  near  his  own  house. 
After  Kitty  Clive  retired  from  the  stage  in  1769,  she 
had  resided  there,  whereupon  Walpole  nicknamed  it 
Cliveden,  or  Clivesden.  The  actress  lived  at  Little 
Strawberry  Hill  until  her  death  in  1785,  when  she  was 
buried  in  the  parish  church.     Walpole  wrote  an  inscrip- 

88 


RESIDENCE   OF    MRS.  CLIVE   AT   TWICKENHAM    (CLIVEDEN    OR 

LITTLE   STRAWBERRY    HILL) 

From  an  engraving  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broad  ley,  Esq.,  by  H.  S.  Storer 

from  the  original  drawing  by  the  same  artist 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY    HILL     89 

tion  to  her  memory  on  an  urn  placed  in  the  shrubbery 
of  "  Cliveden  "  :— 

"  Ye  smiles  and  jests  still  hover  round ; 
This  is  mirth's  consecrated  ground : 
Here  liv'd  the  laughter-loving  dame, 
A  matchless  actress,  Clive  her  name, 
The  comic  muse  with  her  retir'd, 
And  shed  a  tear  when  she  expir'd." 

When  it  became  known  that  the  Berrys  had  accepted 
the  loan  of  Strawberry  Hill,  some  anonymous  scribblers 
in  the  newspapers  cast  aspersions  upon  the  young 
women  as  cruel  as  they  were  unwarrantable,  where- 
upon the  elder  sister  told  Walpole  that  she  could  not 
go  to  his  house.  Walpole  was  in  despair,  and  pleaded 
with  her  to  ignore  such  disgraceful  insinuations.  "  I 
thought  my  age  would  allow  me  to  have  a  friendship 
that  consisted  in  nothing  but  distinguishing  merit — you 
allow  the  vilest  of  all  tribunals,  the  newspapers,  to 
decide  how  short  a  way  friendship  may  go !  Where  is 
your  good  sense  in  this  conduct  ?  and  will  you  punish 
me,  because  what  you  nor  mortal  being  can  prevent, 
a  low  anonymous  scribbler  pertly  takes  a  liberty  with 
your  name  ?  I  cannot  help  repeating  that  you  have  hurt 
me  ! "  So  Walpole  put  his  case  to  Mary  Berry,  who, 
however,  felt  so  strongly  on  the  subject  that  she  could 
not  at  first  give  way.  "  If  our  seeking  your  society 
is  supposed  by  those  ignorant  of  its  value,  to  be  with 
some  view  beyond  its  enjoyment,  and  our  situation 
represented  as  one  which  will  aid  the  belief  of  this  to 
a  mean  and  interested  world,  I  shall  think  we  shall  have 
perpetual  reason  to  regret  the  only  circumstance  in  our 
lives  that  could  be  called  fortunate,"  she  wrote  to  him  on 
October  12.     "Excuse  the  manner  in  which  I  write,  and 


90  BERRY    PAPERS 

in  which  I  feel.  My  sentiments  on  newspaper  notice 
have  long  been  known  to  you,  with  regard  to  all  who 
have  not  so  honourably  distinguished  themselves,  as  to 
feel  above  such  feeble  but  venomed  shafts."  Walpole, 
notwithstanding  this  reply,  in  the  end  managed  to 
have  his  way.  The  Berrys  went  in  December  to  Little 
Strawberry  Hill,  which  was  for  many  years  to  come 
their  favourite  home. 

On  December  5,  George,  third  Earl  of  Orford,  died, 
and  his  uncle,  Horace  Walpole,  succeeded  to  the  title. 
He  was  then  in  his  seventy-fifth  year,  and  the  change 
was  not  all  to  his  liking.  *  As  I  am  sure  of  the  sincerity 
of  your  congratulations,  I  feel  much  obliged  by  them, 
though  what  has  happened  destroys  my  tranquillity  ; 
and,  if  what  the  world  reckons  advantages  could  com- 
pensate the  loss  of  peace  and  ease,  would  ill  indemnify 
me,  even  by  them,"  he  wrote  to  John  Pinkerton  on 
December  26.  "  A  small  estate,  loaded  with  debt,  and 
of  which  I  do  not  understand  the  management,  and 
am  too  old  to  learn ;  a  source  of  law-suits  amongst 
my  nearest  relations,  though  not  affecting  me  ;  endless 
conversations  with  lawyers,  and  packets  of  letters  to 
read  every  day  and  answer, — all  this  weight  of  new 
business  is  too  much  for  the  ray  of  life  that  yet  hangs 
about  me,  and  was  preceded  by  three  weeks  of  anxiety 
about  my  unfortunate  nephew,  and  a  daily  correspond- 
ence with  physicians  and  mad-doctors,  falling  upon  me 
when  I  had  been  out  of  order  ever  since  July.  Such 
a  mass  of  troubles  made  me  very  seriously  ill  for  some 
days,  and  has  left  me  and  still  keeps  me  so  weak  and 
dispirited,  that,  if  I  shall  not  soon  be  able  to  get  some 
repose,  my  empty  head  or  body  will  not  be  able  to 
resist.     For  the  empty  title,  I  trust  you  do  not  suppose 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE    STRAWBERRY   HILL     91 

it  is  anything  but  an  encumbrance,  by  tarding  my  busy 
mornings  with  idle  visits  of  interruption,  which,  when 
I  am  able  to  go  out,  I  shall  be  forced  to  return.  Surely 
no  man  of  seventy-four,  unless  superannuated,  can 
have  the  smallest  pleasure  in  sitting  at  home  in  his  own 
room,  as  I  almost  always  do,  and  being  called  by  a  new 
name !  "  The  only  possible  advantage  Walpole  could 
derive  was  that  he  could  make  his  wife  a  countess,  and 
could  charge  the  estate  with  a  jointure  of  ^2000  a  year. 
There  is  a  tradition,  handed  down  by  Lord  Lansdowne, 
that  he  was  more  than  willing  to  marry  Mary  Berry, 
and  that  he  proposed  to  her.1  If  such  a  suggestion  had 
been  made,  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  would  have  been 
refused,  and  the  letter  from  which  this  statement  is 
deduced  shows  also  that  the  matter  was  never  mentioned 
by  Walpole  to  the  sisters.  "  Although  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Lord  Orford  said  to  Lady  D.  every  word  that  she 
repeated  to  your  brother — for  last  winter,  at  the  time 
the  C.'s  talked  about  the  matter,  he  went  about  saying 
all  this  and  more  to  frighten  everybody  that  would  hear 
him — but  I  always  thought  it  rather  to  frighten  and  punish 
them  than  seriously  wishing  it  himself."  Mary  Berry 
wrote  to  a  friend,  August  20,  1793.  "  And  why  should 
he  ?  when,  without  the  ridicule  or  the  trouble  of 
marriage,  he  enjoys  almost  as  much  of  my  society, 
and  every  comfort  from  it,  that  he  could  in  the  nearest 
connection  ?  As  the  willing  offering  of  a  grateful  and 
affectionate  heart,  the  time  and  attention  I  bestow  upon 
him  have  hitherto  given  me  pleasure.  Were  they  to 
become  a  duty,  and  a  duty  to  which  the  world  would 
attribute  interested  motives,  they  would  become  irksome. 
If  the   world,  its  meanness,   its    total   indifference   to 

1  Quarterly  Review,  October  1865,  cxxii.  298. 


92  BERRY    PAPERS 

everything  but  interest,  in  some  shape  or  other,  be 
assured  you  cannot  think  so  badly  nor  so  truly  as  I 
do.     '  They  best  believe  it  who  have  felt  it  most !  ' " 

The  opening  letters  of  the  correspondence  between 
Mary  Berry  and  Mrs.  Darner  during  the  year  1792  deal 
with  an  offer  of  marriage  made  to  Mrs.  Darner  at  this 
time — an  incident  to  which  there  is  no  reference  in 
Mr.  Percy  Noble's  biography  of  that  lady.  Who  the 
suitor  was  cannot  be  stated  with  any  certainty,  but  from 
Mrs.  Darner's  letter  of  November  9,  1792,  it  seems  that 
his  name  was  Fawkener.  As  he  visited  at  Brocket  Hall, 
it  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  he  was  a  person  of 
some  social  position,  and  it  may  be  that  he  was  William 
Augustus  Fawkener,  son  of  Sir  Everard  Fawkener,  who 
married  in  1784  Georgiana  Ann  Poyntz,  a  niece  of  Lady 
Spencer,  and  eventually  became  Clerk  to  the  Privy 
Council. 


Mary  Berry  to  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner 

The  more  I  consider  the  subject  on  which  we  were 
talking  last  night,  and  I  declare  to  you  it  has  never  been 
a  moment  out  of  my  mind,  the  more  I  see  reasons  to 
consider  it  in  another  point  of  light  from  that  in  which 
it  seems  to  have  appeared  to  you,  and  the  more  I  regret 
not  having  used  all  the  influence  your  friendship  kindly, 
tho'  perhaps  undeservedly,  allows  me,  to  persuade  you 
not  to  give  a  hasty,  perhaps  not  such  an  answer.  For 
God's  sake  do  not  let  false  ideas  of  liberty,  of  ridicule, 
of  a  thousand  things  that  will  occur  to  minds  like  yours 
prevent  your  acquiring  any  real  comfort  or  satisfaction. 
Consider  again,  I  beseech  you,  how  much  your  heart 
owes  you,  and  do  not  at  least  avoid  an  occasion,  if  this 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY   HILL     93 

is  one,  of  being  paid.  But  here  is  the  question,  and  you 
have  not  hesitated  a  moment  in  declaring  that  it  is  not. 
But  have  you  well  considered  it  divested  of  all  the  ac- 
cessories, of  all  the  incidental  circumstances  in  which  it 
happens  to  be  involved,  for  this  is,  in  fact,  the  only 
sober  way  of  judging  : — Have  you  sufficiently  considered 
the  simple  proposition,  whether  or  not  such  a  connection, 
suppose  it  made,  [would  be]  likely  to  contribute  to  your 
future  peace  and  happiness.  You  have  so  eloquent  and 
I  may  add  so  reasonable  arguments  why  it  should  not, 
that  I  need  only  mention  those  that  strike  me  very 
forcibly  why  it  should — the  delicacy  of  your  own  mind, 
the  remains  which  you  own  of  an  unextinguished  passion, 
and  a  thousand  other  circumstances  will  prevent,  as 
have  done,  your  ever  forming  such  a  friendship  or  con- 
nection, for  I  would  wish  to  speak  as  I  think,  unromanti- 
cally  with  any  other  person.  Then  it  would  destroy  in 
a  moment  all  the  vile  mistakes  of  the  world  in  your 
regard,  for  depend  upon  it,  in  a  month's  time,  such  an 
idea  would  never  more  be  thought  of,  and  you  would 
become  as  respectable  in  their  eyes  as  you  have  always 
been  in  your  own,  and  this  respect  of  the  world,  when 
confirmed  by  the  quiet  plaudits  of  one's  own  breast,  I 
never  can  nor  never  shall  think  a  trifling  object.  But 
above  all,  consider,  I  beseech  you,  that  if  you  do  not 
think  him  absolutely  unworthy  of  your  sentiments  for 
him  and  his  very  errors  may  probably  make  him  other- 
wise, if  you  think  him  yet  capable  of  feeling  that  con- 
fidence, that  esteem,  that  friendship  for  you  which  would 
occupy,  I  will  not  say  satisfy,  your  heart,  for  I  am  en- 
deavouring to  draw  in  the  life  not  an  ideal  picture  of 
felicity — you  are  no  longer  the  unconnected,  insulated 
being,  whose  very  perfections  have  hitherto  been  the 
cause  both  of  their  errors  and  their  unhappiness,  who 
look  back  with  regret  to  the  past,  distaste  to  the  present, 
and  indifference  to  the  future. 

You  have  found  almost  all  that  past  circumstances 


94  BERRY    PAPERS 

can  allow  you  to  enjoy,  almost  all  that  your  present 
maturer  reason  allows  you  to  hope  for.  You  might  not 
be  satisfied,  but  you  would  be  occupied,  you  would  be 
interested,  the  powers  of  your  heart  would  be  called 
into  action,  and  in  mental  action  consists  all  virtue  and, 
I  am  convinced,  all  rational  pleasure.  You  will  say,  I 
know,  that  friendship,  one  object,  is  sufficient  to  occupy 
your  mind.  Your  whole  life  has  shown  that,  for  you 
know  what  I  have  long  not  told  you  upon  this  subject, 
and  reading  over  a  note  you  wrote  me  immediately  after 
I  had  mentioned  that  foolish  topic  in  the  papers,1  only 
confirms  me  in  it.  You  own  in  it  the  having  of  a  very 
unhappy  mind,  and  I  see  in  every  line  a  mind  irritated 
and  weakened  from  an  excess  of  this  best  of  feelings, 
and  sinking  under  the  weight  of  what,  properly  distri- 
buted, would  support  it  nobly  through  all  the  various 
connections  of  life.  This  friendship  too,  however  perfect, 
may  fail ;  the  object  is  mortal.  I  am  no  prophet,  there- 
fore do  not  be  afraid  ;  but  what  then  becomes  of  a  heart 
which,  naturally  formed  to  embrace  all  the  various  affec- 
tions of  life,  allows  itself  to  be  contracted  to  one  narrow 
point,  which,  like  every  thing  of  this  world,  may  fail  it. 

Remember  I  am  not  pretending  to  advise.  I  am 
only  submitting  to  your  judgement  several  circumstances 
which  any  one  thoroughly  knowing  you  is  more  likely 
to  see  in  a  true  light  than  yourself.  Give  them,  I 
beseech  you,  your  most  serious  consideration.  They 
have  had  mine.  They  are  offered  to  you  by  one  of 
whose  truth  you  cannot  doubt,  who  is  proud  of  feeling 
and  owning  your  superiority,  and  whose  wishes  for  your 
happiness  are  as  sincere  and  perfect  as  you  deserve  to 
inspire. 

caelo  ceu  saepe  refixa 
Transcurrunt  crinemque  volantia  sidera  ducunt. 

Virg:  Alii  ...  v.  527 
suadent  cadentia  sidera  sotnnos. 

1  Concerning  the  Berrys  and  Little  Strawberry  Hill. 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY   HILL     95 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

I  know  your  kind  intention,  and  see  the  hand  of 
friendship  in  every  line  you  have  traced.  You  say  you 
do  "not  advise."  Indeed,  you  know  not  the  character 
of  the  person  to  whom,  by  so  many  arguments,  you 
would  dispose  of  your  friend,  nor  all  the  various  cir- 
cumstances that  make  such  a  union  contrary  to  reason 
and  prudence.  Could  you  be  sensible  of  the  objections, 
and  see  his  character,  dissimilar  as  it  is  to  mine,  ill 
calculated  to  afford  me  real  comfort  or  real  happiness, 
such  as  to  my  reason,  even  thro'  the  mist  of  passion, 
it  has  long  appeared,  and  still  to  my  more  sober  sense 
appears,  you  would  use  that  influence  Friendship  has  so 
deservedly  given  you  over  me,  to  deter  me  from  embark- 
ing on  such  a  troubled  sea,  and,  voluntarily,  completing 
the  hard  fate  to  which  I  have  been  exposed.  Yet,  in 
compliance  to  your  desire,  I  have  endeavoured  to  con- 
sider the  subject  in  different  views,  such  as  you  place 
it,  with  as  much  attention  and  care  as  if  it  was  the 
first  time  it  had  come  into  deliberation — but  the  result 
is  the  same. 

It  must  strike  you,  I  am  sensible,  that,  returning  to 
one  no  longer  young,  worn  by  ill  health,  and,  however 
undeservedly,  under  the  heavy  censure  of  the  world, 
when  he  may  still  captivate  the  young,  beautiful  and 
gay,  argues  a  truth  and  constancy  of  sentiment  of  which 
you  think  me  not  sufficiently  aware.  But,  my  dearest 
friend,  have  you  well  considered  that  in  such  an  en- 
gagement he  risks  little,  and  that  I  risk  all !  You  know 
not  how  highly  I  value  your  opinion.  It  will  grieve 
me  beyond  measure  should  you  on  so  serious  an  oc- 
casion think  me  actuated  by  light  motives,  punctilious 
fears  of  ridicule,  or  ideas  of  liberty,  which  last  I  value 
so  much  as  they  deserve,  that  it  is  my  joy  to  sacrifice 
them  to  those  I  love,  and  the  liberty  of  devoting  the 


96  BERRY    PAPERS 

remainder  of  my  life  to  what  I  esteem  and  admire,  to 
what  can  alone  give  support  and  comfort  to  an  almost 
broken  spirit,  is  all  I  ask. 

It  is  most  certain  that,  had  he,  at  an  earlier  period, 
but  endeavoured  to  convince  me  even  of  a  slight  interest 
for  my  happiness,  or  that  his  own  was  deeply  con- 
cerned,— shown  me  but  the  shadow  of  true  affection, — I 
should  have  caught  at  it,  but  it  is  now,  every  way,  too 
late;  I  should  expose  myself  to  certain  remorse  and 
misery.  With  regard  to  the  world,  were  I  inclined  to 
buy  its  uncertain  favour,  I  much  doubt  if  any  step  of 
this  sort  would  now  have  the  effect  you  imagine,  as  I 
do  maintain  it,  undone  as  I  am,  it  is  by  malice,  not  by 
the  sober  or  confirmed  opinion  of  any  living  creature : 
but  this  I  would,  most  freely,  give  up  to  your  better 
judgement. 

I  know  not  why  you  say  that  "my  whole  life  has 
proved  that  one  object  is  not  sufficient  to  occupy  my 
heart."  Passion  is  not,  I  allow,  and  at  all  times  I  have 
sought,  however  illjudgingly,  for  friendship,  the  only 
perfect  good  I  know  on  earth.  The  melancholy  image 
you  present  to  my  imagination  I  think  gave  you  pain, 
for  my  sake,  as  you  drew  the  picture.  On  that  we  will 
not  now  dwell,  but  admiting  that  variety  of  attachments 
and  duties  is  an  advantage,  you  will  surely  allow  that 
these  .«/£-divisions  must  come  naturally,  be  brought  on 
by  circumstances  and  chance,  not  forced,  as  they  would, 
thus  fail  in  this  object. 

I  will  send  you  these  lines,  for  the  more  I  write  to 
you,  the  more  I  find  that  I  still  would  say,  and  I  am,  [I] 
know  not  how,  continually  for  these  last  days  inter- 
rupted. 

Oh  !  let  me  not  have  the  mortification  of  thinking 
you  suppose  me  foolishly  throwing  away  proffered  good, 
when  I  am  avoiding  misery.  Let  me,  when  you  can, 
see  you  for  half  an  hour,  but  by  no  means  till  it  is  (if 
ever  indeed  that  is)  without  difficulty  to  you.     I  do  not 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY    HILL     97 

mean  to-morrow,  the  next  day,  or  the  next,  but  when 
you  can.  If  you  ever  thoroughly  know  how  my  heart 
is  affected  by  your  kindness,  you  will  not  think  it  wants 
more  than  one  object  for  occupation.  Farewell.  To 
whom  on  earth  could  I  send  this,  certain  that  it  would 
be  read  with  interest,  but  to  you !  Do  not  think  of 
answering  this  at  present.  Farewell,  and  God  bless 
you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Tuesday  Evening. 

In  my  way  home,  this  morning,  I  called  upon 
Mrs.  W.,  whom  I  found  alone,  intending,  as  she  had 
announced  in  her  note,  to  come  to  me.  After  talking 
over  the  state  of  affairs,  and  what  respects  Lord  Orford, 
late  and  present,  her  expectations,  &c.  &c,  she,  with 
much  agitation,  said,  "  You  don't  know  how  I  dread  the 
least  change  of  situation,  of  whatever  advantage  it  might 
be  to  me,  to  my  children."  And  then,  bursting  into 
tears,  she  exclaimed  "  For  God's  sake !  do  not  betray 
me."  I  assured  her,  and  this  indeed  not  coldly,  that 
I  never  should.  Increase  of  fortune,  she  said,  whether 
from  the  death  of  Lord  Walpole  or  from  the  will  in 
question,  might  change  unavoidably  her  present  mode 
of  life  : — she  must  see  more  company,  and  pass,  perhaps, 
seven  or  eight  months  in  the  country,  absent  from  what 
alone  interested  her.  Yet,  she  added,  his  temper  and 
uncertainty  made  her  wretched — called  this  an  infatua- 
tion— to  feel  thus  for  one  who  comparatively  felt  little 
for  her.  He  was  attached,  she  believed,  but  treated  her 
like  a  child,  and  his  behaviour  by  no  means  compensated 
for  the  misery  she  suffered.  Mr.  W.,  she  said,  in  his 
person  was  not  disagreeable  to  her,  that  she  "had  felt 
much  attached  to  him," — "  but  he  was  cold  " — in  short, 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  265. 


98  BERRY    PAPERS 

neglected  her,  "and  the  heart  and  mind  must  be  occu- 
pied." In  this  manner  she  went  on,  and  what  to  think, 
with  regard  to  myself,  I  yet  cannot  tell.  I  pity  her 
from  my  soul,  and  would  not,  for  the  world,  hurt  or 
shock  her,  had  I  a  right,  "  mat's  nton  amie,  Fair  de  ce  lieu 
n'est  pas  bon  pour  moi."  She  invited  me  to  sup  there, 
(Mr.  W.  is,  as  you  know,  gone  to  H.).  This  I  could 
not,  had  I  wished  it,  but  some  other  night  I  will.  You 
never  shall  have  cause  to  reproach  me  for  neglecting 
your  advice.  You  have  allowed  me  to  talk  as  I  do,  but 
that  indulgence  I  trust  I  shall  not  abuse.  It  is  most 
certain  that  on  this  subject,  I  never  can  talk  with  ease, 
or  indifference.  Pity  me,  and  continue,  for  Heaven's 
sake  !  to  think  you  see  excuses  for  another  that  I  know 
you  would  not  see  for  yourself.  Your  kindness  is 
beyond  all  power  of  thanks,  but  rest  assured  of  what  I 
told  you  this  morning,  that  the  assurance  of  your  friend- 
ship gives  composure  to  my  mind  as  well  as  comfort  to 
my  heart ;  and  how  necessary  both  are  to  me,  and  how 
much  I  stand  in  need  of  them  in  this  comfortless  world, 
you  will  judge,  to  whom,  I  trust,  I  am  really  known. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Thursday  Evening,  5  o'clock  [  1 792"). 

I  am  enjoyed  to  think  that  I  shall  pass  this  evening 
alone,  for  I  want  quiet,  and  I  do  protest  that,  however 
distant,  it  is  the  next  step  to  passing  it  with  you.  This 
is  one  of  the  comforts  the  disposal  of  which  you  would 
have  me  deprive  myself ;  but,  indeed,  as  I  feel  only 
anxious  to  convince  you  that  I  am  not  wrong  in  my 
determination,  that  alone,  were  I  inclined  to  deliberate, 
would  convince  me  of  its  justness.  Arguments  I  shall 
not  attempt,  as  you  said  that  those  I  used  "had  not  a 
shadow  of  force,"  and,  indeed,  if  total  want  of  confidence 


BERRYS   AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY   HILL     99 

in  a  character,  in  affection  and  attachment,  is  net  an 
argument  against  an  engagement  for  life,  I  know  none. 
But  more  of  all  this,  I  will  hope,  at  some  future  time, 
and  such  is  my  confidence  in  that  only  advocate  I  have 
had  with  you,  Truth,  that  I  still  have  little  doubt  but  that 
in  the  end  you  will  find  reasons  not  to  condemn  me. — 
This  I  have  much  at  heart,  and  what  hurts  me  is  an  air 
of  disapprobation  that  you  have  lately  mixed  with  your 
kind  solicitude  for  my  wellfare.  Yet  so  well  do  I  know 
your  heart  that  on  this,  as  on  every  other  occasion 
where  you  have  thought  my  interest  concerned,  you 
leave  me  without  the  power  of  thanks, — but  how  I  feel 
the  many  obligations  I  owe  you  my  remaining  life  shall 
prove.  The  momentary  and  foolish  passion  I  was  in 
can  only  excite  your  pity.  Of  that  I  will  say  nothing 
but  that  you  leave  the  reproach  I  deserve  to  me.  You 
cannot  doubt  the  influence  you  so  deservedly  have 
over  me  ;  but  you  would  not,  I  think,  have  that  alone, 
in  such  a  case,  decide  me,  as  you  cannot  be  acquainted 
with  the  many  circumstances  that,  you  will  allow,  might, 
and,  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  would,  make  such  a  step 
the  means  of  robbing  me  of  what  remains  of  peace  and 
comfort  I  look  for  on  earth. 

I  have  now  again  read  over  what  you  wrote,  but  my 
mind  is  only  affected  by  your  kindness,  and  by  the 
melancholy  ideas  you  set  before  me. — You  bid  me  con- 
sider "how  much  my  heart  owes  me."  Is  it  a  heart  to 
be  paid  with  false  coin  ?  Merciful  Heaven !  I  will 
hope  this  difference  of  opinion  will  not  last  very  long. 
It  is,  I  feel,  in  vain  for  me  to  say  more  at  present. — That 
what  you  do  think  you  will  ever  tell  me,  I  trust  I  need 
not  ask,  or  it  is  what,  on  my  knees,  I  would  ask,  and 
that  most  earnestly.  I  have  been  reading,  and  again 
began  writing  to  you.  I  may  now  say  Good  night,  and 
God  bless  you  !  x 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  260. 


ioo  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Saturday  Morning. 

I  first  thought  of  coming  to  you  this  morning,  but  I 
might  not  without  awkwardness  and  difficulty  to  your- 
self find  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  you,  and,  if  I 
did,  might  not  feel  the  power  of  saying  one  word  I 
intended.  Yet,  Heaven  knows !  my  heart  is  full,  and 
in  some  way  must  attempt  at  least  to  express  itself.  I 
have  been  revolving  in  my  mind  all  you  said  to  me 
yesterday  respecting  your  future  plans ;  and  the  more 
I  reflect,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  you  sometimes 
allow  your  fine  judgement  to  err  where  you  are  yourself 
personally  concerned,  and  from  an  excess  and  perti- 
nacious pursuit  of  right,  go  beyond  that  point,  that  line, 
at  which  in  all  things  it  is  perfection  to  stop.  You 
always  lean  to  whatever  carries  with  it  un comfort  to 
yourself,  and  will  not  even  throw  into  the  common 
stock  your  own  gratification  or  advantage,  lest  they 
should  help  to  turn  the  scale. 

Just  as  your  views  of  this  world  may  be,  you  think 
too  much  and  too  deeply  of  a  futurity  ever  uncertain, 
intended  by  the  Divine  Power  to  be  uncertain.  'Tis 
like  a  journey,  for  which  indeed,  we  ought  to  be 
prepared,  but  not  set  out  upon  in  imagination  without 
waiting  till  we  are  called  for,  the  more  as  you  must 
allow  we  know  not  which  way  the  road  may  lead, — 
and  by  stretching  the  sight  too  far  over  dreary  deserts, 
we  sometimes  trample  the  few  flowers  that  may  be 
strewed  under  our  feet.  But,  quiting  metaphor,  I  will 
shew  you  that  I  can  speak  in  plain  terms,  call  "  un  chat 
un  chat!' 

Your  expenses  have,  in  a  mere  trifle,  exceeded  your 
income.  To  set  that  right  you  would  do  what,  if  it 
was  not  disagreable,  I  am  certain  your  reason  would 
shew  you  to  be  unadvisable.     You  know  the  world, — 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     101 

"too  well!"  I  hear  you  say: — does  it  give  credit 
where  it  ought  ? — Does  it  not  prevent  the  causes 
and  essence  of  our  most  virtuous  actions  ? — You 
know  it  does.  In  this  case,  were  you,  out  of  prudence, 
care  for  others  and  every  good  motive,  to  pass,  I 
will  not  say  a  melancholy  winter  in  the  country,  but 
pent-up,  teazed,  fretted,  and  tormented,  nay  and  re- 
proached for  every  rainy  day,  or  Northern  blast, — were 
you,  I  say,  to  do  this,  would  not  the  world  again  renew 
its  impertinence  on  the  subject  of  Lord  Or[ford]  and  re- 
joice in  your  house  let  and  your  retiring  to  Twickenham 
as  a  colour  for  their  inventions  ?  Were  it  necessary, 
positively  and  surely  right,  I  should,  you  know,  be 
the  first  to  say,  despise  them;  but  let  me,  since  you 
have  taught  me,  remind  you  that,  tho'  friends  ought  to 
be  despised,  still  they  must  be  feared.  But  all  this  is 
not  necessary ;  and  then  you  honour  me  with  the  name 
of  y out  friend,  and  yet  scruple  in  one  instance  to  treat 
me  as  such,  tho'  you  will  not,  can  not  deny  that,  were 
the  tables  turned,  you  would  expect  of  me  to  act  as 
I  now  would  have  you,  and  as,  God  is  my  judge ! 
unless  I  am  indeed  strangely  deceived  in  myself,  with 
you  I  would  act. 

A  few  hundred  pounds,  is  it  not  true,  a  mere 
trifle !  would  settle  the  present  shadow  of  difficulty, 
and  in  future  a  slight,  almost  imperceptible,  reduction 
of  establishment  prevent  the  like  ?  Set  it  at  the  worst, 
it  may  be  some  diminution  of  your  own  fortune,  but 
your  prudence  will  prevent  its  being  very  considerable. 
Should  your  father  be  long  preserved  to  you,  that  time 
for  you  all  will  be  passed  with  less  inconvenience. 
Should  it  be  decreed  otherwise,  by  Fate,  the  difference 
must  be  less.  And  after  all,  in  one  word,  I  cannot 
think  what  would  break  my  very  heart,  a  blow  I  will 
not  expect  from  your  hand — no,  I  cannot  think  that 
you  would  then  refuse,  in  some  way,  to  share  the 
fortune  of  a  being  so  truly  devoted  to  you,  and  one 


102  BERRY    PAPERS 

with  whom,  great  or  small,  you  would  feel  the  first 
of  comforts  in  sharing  your  own.  Do  not,  my  only 
friend,  my  only  earthly  comfort,  make  things  worse 
than  they  are,  by  considering  too  much  only  their 
dark  side,  and  by  a  cramped  view,  ill  suited  to  a  mind 
like  yours. 

I  say  nothing  of  the  length  of  this.  Did  I  not 
fear  interruption  it  would  be  larger,  and  what  I  want 
to  write,  you  want  to  read.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Brocket  Hall,  Friday,  November  9,  1792. 

I  write  because  I  love  writing  to  you,  tho'  it  is 
possible,  should  I  hear  that  you  come  to  town  the  begin- 
ning of  next  week,  that  I  may  not  send  my  letter, — but 
writing  to  you  is  become  a  habit — it  helps  to  continue 
that  fine  thread  that  holds  minds  together.  I  feel,  too, 
some  converse  with  a  being  to  whom  my  heart  is  open, 
one  in  whom  I  may,  and  do,  confide,  the  more  necessary, 
the  more  my  spirits  are  affected,  whether  from  serious 
causes,  or  whether  from  those  "  little  tiresome  cares  " 
you  so  well  express — those  forms  and  semblances  of 
society  and  friendship,  "  et praeterea  nil,"  in  which,  from 
various  circumstances,  I  find  myself  so  much  involved, 
contrary  to  my  every  real  taste  or  wish,  and  with 
which  I  have  of  late  been  more  than  usually  teazed 
and  harassed,  at  a  time  when  I  expected  to  have 
enjoy'd  more  quiet  and  repose. 

Day  after  day  successions  of  indifferents,  many  of 
those  who  came  out  of  mere  curiosity  to  see  me  work, 
become  sort  of  intimates,  and  most  intimate  sort  of 
plagues,  bound  by  no  care  but  that  of  pleasing  them- 
selves, ever  in  the  way  when  you  do  not  want  them, 
and  never  to  be  had  when  you  do.    Of  such  fare  (to 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  262. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     103 

use  this  in  metaphor)  my  soul  is  sick.  I  might,  it  is 
true,  wholly  disengage  myself  from  all  this  hurry  I 
complain  of,  but  then  \fear  too  great  solitude,  because 
it  is  what  I  am  so  much  inclined  to  love. 


London,  Sunday  Evening. 

I  ought  to  feel  better,  since  I  vented  my  ill-humour 
so  freely,  but  I  will  no  longer  make  apologies,  for  it 
is  thus  I  would  be  treated  by  you.  Let  me  but  par- 
take of  your  grievances,  your  cares  and  your  anxieties, 
I  would,  Heaven  knows,  were  it  in  my  power,  throw 
in  my  small  stock  of  quiet  or  enjoyment  to  add  to 
yours. 

I  found,  on  coming  to  town,  that  your  Father  had 
called  on  Thursday  last,  and  said  that  he  thought  you 
would  be  in  town  yesterday.  If  so,  I  have  missed 
seeing  you,  and  it  remains  quite  uncertain  when  I 
shall  again  have  that  satisfaction.  I  found  no  company 
at  B[rocket]  H[all]  and  the  weather  really  mild  and 
pleasant,  that  I  should  have  enjoyed  indeed  more, 
had  it  not  been  for  a  violent  cold,  as  bad  as  a  cold  in 
the  head  can  be,  which  lasted  the  days  I  passed  there. 
I  however  went  out.  I  felt  little  regret  in  returning, 
company  was  expected,  and  the  day  dreary  and  cold. 
The  hours  they  keep  are  too  late,  and  the  exercise  they 
follow  not  what  I  like  and  am  equal  to.  I  am  at  liberty, 
certainly  ;  but  when  one  has  no  longer  any  particular 
interest,  one  is  affected  by  minutiae  in  other  cases  not 
thought  of.  This  time,  indeed,  I  was  lucky,  but  in 
general  the  awkwardnesses  which,  if  others  do  not  feel 
for  themselves,  I  feel  for  them,  are  the  source  to  me 
of  a  thousand  melancholy  reflections. 

But  tell  me  why  you  are  so  late  at  night.  Why  you 
are  near  so  late  I  cannot  guess.  'Tis,  I  am  convinced, 
to  suit  the  taste  or  convenience  of  others,  for  yourself 
would,  I  am  sure,  to  my  earnest  request  sacrifice   an 


104  BERRY    PAPERS 

hour  or  two  of  candlelight,  to  add  a  few  words  of 
Dorimant  (Mr.  Fawkener).  I  think  I  understand  what 
you  would  say  on  that  subject ;  if  I  mistake,  leave  me  to 
my  stupidity,  for  I  want  comfort  and  indulgence.  It  is  a 
subject  on  which  I  never  can  feel  satisfied,  and  you  see 
in  this  sad  example  a  proof  of  having  been  wrong — 
accusing  others.  I  know  not,  I  am  sure,  if  I  can  explain 
what  I  meant  at  the  moment,  when  I  felt  more  agitated 
and  less  reasonable  than  now.  It  was  that  sensations 
from  the  loss  of  one  could  not  be  much  felt  engaged  in 
a  serious  and  long  connection  with  another,  and  that 
there  was  more  affected  than  real  sensibility  in  the  note, 
and  more  caprice  in  their  finding  out,  without  any  new 
circumstance  or  event,  what  for  this  twelvemonth  past 
he  had  scarcely  seemed  to  dream  of, — and  in  all  this 
what  I  may  feel  never  seems  thought  of. — I  was  now 
grown  (I  will  confess  it)  often  to  wish  still  more  than 
to  fear  seeing  him.  It  is  therefore  better  as  it  is  my 
reason  is  convinced ;  for  with  such  a  character  I  could 
never  find  repose  or  real  happiness.  I  have  not  heard 
a  word  from  him,  or  seen  him,  since  the  evening  I 
mentioned,  in  which  I  think  I  told  you  he  came.  His 
note  was  in  answer  to  one  of  mine,  a  simple  invitation. 
Farewell.  I  shall  soon  begin  writing  to  you  again.  Take 
care  of  yourself,  and  try  sometimes  to  get  an  early  half 
hour  after  supper,  and  when  you  would  most  indulge 
me,  let  it  be  mine.  More  I  cannot  grant  in  spite  of  all 
your  arguments. 

P.S.  A  sudden  turn  directs  me. — Heaven  bless  you.1 

The  year  1793  was  as  uneventful  for  the  Berrys  as 
1792.  They  spent  the  earlier  part  of  the  year  sometimes 
at  Twickenham,  sometimes  at  their  house  in  London, 
and  in  the  late  summer  paid  a  round  of  visits  to  the 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  194. 


ORIGINAL    DRAWING    FOR   MRS.   DAMER's    BOOKPLATE   BY   AGNES    BERRY 
Reproduced  by  kind  permission  oj  Mr.  Tregaskin 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     105 

Cayleys,  the  Cholmeleys,  and  other  friends  in  the  north. 
"  The  Berrys  are  in  Yorkshire,"  Horace  Walpole  wrote 
to  the  Countess  of  Ossory  on  December  9,  "  and  have 
been  so  for  these  four  months." 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Tuesday,  October  8,  1793. 

The  Lavender  plants  are  to  go  this  week.1  I  send 
them  to  Lord  Orf[ord]  with  directions  in  case  you  should 
have  forgot  to  give  your  orders. 

I  am  just  come  in  late  from  my  walk,  seed-gathering 
&c,  but  I  find  I  can  settle  to  nothing  till  I  have  thanked 
you,  dear  kind  soul,  for  your  letter  which  I  received 
this  morning,  for  writing  to  me  oftener  than  I  could 
expect,  which,  besides  the  gratification  of  hearing  from 
you,  of  reading  your  letters,  so  well  assures  me  that  you 
know  how  I  feel  the  comfort  I  receive  from  them.  I 
write  to  you  about  my  head-aches  and  about  my  finger- 
aches,  because  you  encourage  me,  and  there  is  nothing  I 
would  not  wish  to  hear  from  you  :  however  trifling  at 
the  time  it  may  appear  to  yourself,  to  me  it  can  not.  If 
I  am  so  u  abominably  "  exact,  it  is  not  what  I  intend;  but 
when  I  would  send  a  letter  a  day  or  two  sooner,  a  dread 
coming  across  me,  lest  it  should  appear  too  soon  (not  to 
you).  When  later,  I  think  you  may  expect  to  hear,  my 
paper  is  full  and  at  the  end  of  the  week  my  letter  goes. 
But  why  do  you  say  you  are  "glad"  I  did  not  see  you 
when  you  was  ill  ?  I  may,  it  is  true,  feel  the  violent 
pains  you  suffer,  in  one  sense,  more  severely  than  you 
do  yourself,  but  remember  that  it  is  not  when  you  see  me 

1  Park  Place  was  then  famous  for  its  lavender  and  distillery.  The  plants 
arrived  safely  at  Strawberry  Hill.  "  The  coach  has  just  brought  me  from 
Park  Place  a  grove  of  lavender  plants  for  you,  of  which  Mrs.  Damer  gave  me 
notice,"  Walpole  wrote  to  Mary  Berry,  October  18,  1793.  "My  gardener 
has  gone  to  distribute  them  about  Cliveden,  which  I  hope  next  summer  will 
be  odoriferous  as  Mount  Carmel." 


106  BERRY    PAPERS 

that  I  suffer  most.  Do  not  say  these  things  to  me,  they 
quite  hurt  me,  yet,  I  know  you  would  send  for  me  and 
keep  me  with  you,  for,  thank  Heaven,  you  know  me, 
and  will  from  yourself  judge  of  what,  and  how,  /  feel  on 
every  occasion,  and  such  at  least  is  my  hope,  trust,  and 
confidence.  Heaven  bless  you.  JVen  ddplaise  the  jour- 
nal, I  shall  indulge  myself  in  half  an  hour  with  you  this 
evening,  for  I  was  prevented  this  whole  morning,  yester- 
day and  to-day  by  the  plasterers  who  were  by  dozens 
about  my  windows,  singing,  and  splattering  and  making 
such  a  noise,  that  as  I  never  could  settle  which  was 
worst,  their  looking  in  at  the  window  or  the  room  nearly 
dark,  I  gave  up  writing  to  you.  I  trust  they  have  nearly 
done  here,  but  no-one  can  have  an  idea  of  the  house, 
you  think  it  my  fancy,  would  you  could  see  it.  I  find 
by  a  letter  of  Lord  Orf[ord]  to  my  mother,  that  he  has 
had  a  bilious  attack,  and  been  quite  ill  for  some  days, 
of  which  according  to  his  comfortable,  satisfactory  custom 
he  says  not  a  word  to  me,  only  at  the  end  of  his  letter  to 
her  desires,  if  I  write  to  Yorkshire,  that  I  will  not  mention 
this  "to  his  wives,"  as  he  means  either  to  keep  it  a 
secret,  or  tell  you  when  he  is  well  (I  forget  which). 
This  needs  no  comments.  He  was  taken  ill,  I  under- 
stand, last  Sunday  sennight,  but  on  Monday  or  Tuesday 
last,  when  he  wrote,  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  be 
going  to  take  the  air. 

My  mother,  as  she  sometimes  does,  but  in  the 
drollest  way,  took  one  of  her  fidgets  about  the  bee  from 
not  having  heard  from  her,  and  fancying  her  ill  wrote 
to  him  to  enquire.  I  do  not  know  if  the  likeness  is 
kept  up  so  far,  or  if  you  will  have  the  quickness  to 
understand  this  story,  but  it  strikes  me  ridiculously, 
and  I  must  try.  His  letters  to  my  mother  are  the 
most  respectful,  polite,  performances  always  that  can 
be  penned.  .  .  . 

Friday  morning. — Of  poor  Mrs.  C[homeley]  I  often 
think,  as  you  will  easily  imagine  and  with  you,  that  her 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     107 

mind  will  one  day  recover  its  tone,  tho'  at  times  she 
will  have,  must  have,  painful  reflections.  I  perfectly 
agree  with  you,  and  perfectly  understand  what  you 
mean  to  express  by  "  persistance  "  and  "  obstinacy  "  of 
affections.  These  are  properties  belonging  to  particular 
characters  of  which  experience  only  can  make  them- 
selves thoroughly  sensible.  Too  severely  have  I  felt 
their  influence  ;  properties  calculated  to  make  the  great 
happiness  or  the  great  misery  of  the  beings  who  profess 
them,  and  what  are  the  chances  in  this  miserable  exist- 
ence, on  which  side  they  lean,  to  you  I  need  not  say, 
and  how  much  the  present  times,  the  mode  of  living 
and  received  opinions  are  against  all  your  minds  with 
strong  feelings,  I  have  often,  with  pain,  considered.  By 
a  certain  sort  of  half  tolerance  we  are  led  into  errors, 
left  to  the  mercy  of  ungovernable  passions,  damned 
or  saved  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  without  a  shadow  of 
real  justice.  It  is,  as  you  truly  say,  from  the  observa- 
tion and  knowledge  of  characters  only  that  we  can 
fairly  and  clearly  form  an  opinion  of  what  in  particular 
circumstances  and  how  they  will  suffer.  It  is  not  the 
"  measure."  This  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  pretty  expres- 
sion, "  L'eau  que  tombe  goutte  a  goutte  perce  le  plus  dur 
rocher"  was  the  same  quantity  of  water  as  elected  to 
rush  impetuously  over  the  rock,  once  subsided,  the  rock 
might  be  found  to  have  sustained  less  damage.  As  to 
your  marriage  I  certainly  think,  according  to  the  world 
we  live,  that  much  may  be  said  in  its  favour,  but  as 
certainly  I  think  more  is  said  against  it  in  your  letter. 
You  will  not  this  time  find  me  too  exact  for  I  shall  send 
this  to-day,  it  may  lose  a  day  if  it  follows  you  to 
Scarboro',  and  I  think  too  you  should  know  about 
Lord  Orf[ord].  You  will  tell  him  you  do,  or  not, 
as  you  think  best,  only  let  me  know  which.  My 
father  had  a  letter  from  him  to-day,  but  he  did  not 
show  it  me,  but  said  that  he  wrote  out  of  spirits,  had 
felt   some   return   of  the   complaint,  that  however  he 


108  BERRY    PAPERS 

thought  himself  mending.  Continue  to  "fear"  for 
me.  Let  me  think  you  do,  and  heaven  bless  and 
preserve  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Friday  Evening,  November  I,  1793. 

If  it  was  not  for  that  confidence  and  security  that 
daily  increases,  I  should  feel  a  painful  sensation  of  fear 
lest  you  should  mistake  or  misunderstand  anything  I 
said  in  my  letter  of  yesterday,  for  I  wrote  in  a  hurry, 
and  without  explanation  expressed  a  wish  that  you 
should  withhold  a  confidence  that  weighs  on  your  mind 
from  one  of  your  dearest  friends,  and  I  protest  that  I 
had  no  reason  for  what  I  said  (you  will  recollect  that  I 
have  often  exhorted  you  to  the  contrary  idea).  It  was 
merely  an  anxious  care  that  at  the  moment  alarmed  me, 
and  which,  indeed,  I  still  feel  for  you.  I  dread  for  you 
any  additional  agitation  of  mind,  tho'  transient,  and  she, 
by  all  you  tell  me  and  by  all  I  know,  is  too  much 
absorbed  in  her  own  woes,  her  mind  has  lost  too  much 
of  its  powers,  for  her,  at  this  time,  to  afford  relief  to 
others.  This  is  nearly  what  you  say  yourself,  but  it 
should  seem  that  I  ought  rather  to  combat  such 
opinions  than  strengthen  them,  but  I  have  long  waived 
all  seemings  with  you.  What  I  am  you  know,  and  that 
you  shall  find  me.  You  have  received  me  with  all  my 
faults,  and  it  shall  be  my  first  care,  where  it  is  possible, 
that  you  shall  not  suffer  for  them.  "  Sed  h&c  hactenus." 
How  often  have  I  felt,  rather  do  I  feel,  what  you  say  of 
letters,  in  spite  of  all  the  comfort  they  afford.  Distance, 
too,  adds  much  to  separation.  God  knows !  if  you 
11  harp"  on  melancholy  you  are  sure  to  find  a  unison 
with  me.  Never  restrain  yourself,  that  is  all  I  ask,  and 
the   only  way  a  gleam  of   sunshine  can  ever  be  felt. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  30. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL      109 

Farewell.  I  find  too  many  people  in  town,  they  too  few, 
and  never  let  one  rest  in  these  times  of  scarcity. 

I  am  going  this  evening  to  Lord  Harrington's,1 
and  to-morrow  with  the  wild-cat — she  has  found  me 
out — to  the  Haymarket.  "  Tecum  fuissem."  Heaven 
bless  you. 

Sunday  morning. — I  went  with  the  wild-cat  to  the 
play.  After  some  time  found  myself  en  tiers,  which  she 
seemed  not  to  have  expected  (I  mean  merely  not  his 
coming).  He  bowed  in  the  very  oddest,  and  most 
marked  manner,  first  to  her,  and  then  to  me,  "  I  came 
for  the  pleasure  of  your  company  and  yours.1'  Oh  ! 
defend  me,  but  that  is  too  late,  defend  therefore  what  is 
more  dear  to  me  than  myself  from  caprice !  At  times, 
cross  and  distant,  formal  or  reserved,  at  others  how 
different,  yet  never  seeming  to  act,  or  speak  ex  imo 
corde :  completely  a  gentleman  it  is  true,  but  a  modern 
one.  What  a  contrast  with  a  character  full  of  romantic 
impudence  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression)  but  with 
still  more  depth  than  violence  of  passion,  saved  from 
farther  or  greater  miseries,  perhaps  from  the  excess  of 
its  feelings.  But  I  do  not  mean,  Heaven  knows !  to 
you,  my  only  comfort,  do  not  wish  to  boast,  well  know- 
ing that  not  to  myself,  but  to  the  coldness  and  indiffer- 
ence of  another  I  owe  most.  I  know  you  will  forgive  all 
I  say  on  a  subject  that  fills  me  with  shame,  regret,  and 
melancholy,  on  which  even  with  you  I  seldom  talk. 
What  I  have  been  writing  has  made  me  as  cold  as  ice, 
after  a  hearty  sigh,  I  will  now  be  less  serious. 

I  was  to  carry  her  to  Renards'  (the  others  went,  of 
course,  with  us).  We  found  them  not  returned,  and 
back   we  went   to   the  wild-cat's.     She   invited   me   so 

1  Charles  Stanhope,  third  Earl  of  Harrington  (17  5  3-1829).  He  had 
married  in  1779  Jane  Seymour,  daughter  and  co-heiress  of  Sir  John  Fleming, 
Bart.,  of  Brompton  Park,  Middlesex.  The  eldest  son  of  the  marriage,  Charles 
(1780-1851),  was  later  famous  in  social  circles,  and  was  known  as  Lord 
Petersham  until  he  succeeded  to  the  Earldom. 


no  BERRY    PAPERS 

kindly  up  that  (I  believe  out  of  awkwardness)  up  I  went. 
She  was  not  expected  home,  a  few  coals  were  stirred 
and  restirred  and  tea  brought.  She  still  pressed  me  to 
stay  and  called  for  cold  meat.  Knowing  perhaps,  that  I 
have  nothing  of  the  broom-quality  in  my  composition, 
her  invitation  might  be  sincere,  half  an  hour  more  or 
less,  as  I  fancy  the  [illegible]  was  out  of  town,  made  no 
difference  :  if  he  was  at  home  I  think  a  dish  of  tea  to 
help  his  "digestion"  might  have  been  advisable.  In 
short,  to  end  my  story,  tho'  it  would  not  have  been 
remarked  "how  ill  we  all  dissembled."  I  hate  such 
scenes,  tho'  I  sometimes  can  go  tolerably  thro'  the 
acting,  I  excused  myself  as  having  been  up  rather  late 
the  night  before,  and  we  parted.  During  my  short 
journey  home  I  reflected  on  the  wonderfull  licence  some 
enjoy,  guessing  how  they  lead  one  to  a  chaos. 

Monday  evening. — This  time  you  shall  not  complain 
of  my  exactitude,  but  if  I  am  ever  too  little  exact  a  very 
slight  hint  will  stop  me.  I  have  this  moment  received 
the  official  account  I  enclose.  It  did  not  come  directly 
to  me,  but  that  matters  not.  Seriously,  as  I  think  it  will 
not  be  in  the  papers  as  soon  as  you  receive  this,  the 
intelligence  becomes  interesting  and  is  an  excuse  to  me 
for  indulging  myself  in  what  is,  believe  me,  my  only 
comfort  and  real  pleasure,  if  any  can  be  called  so  in 
absence.  .  .  . 

Another  question  I  did  not  answer  was  about  my 
father's  new  title.1  He  is  called  Marshal,  as  he  was 
called  General,  and  that  he  used  always  to  prefer  (not 
being  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  opinion),  in  which  he 
was  right  I  think,  for  all  ought  to  think  their  profession, 
be  it  what  it  may,  their  best  title. 

I  am  writing  in  a  hurry  as  you  will  perceive,  expect- 
ing every  moment  to  hear  the  last  bellman. 

I  do  not  dare  read  over  my  lettter  for  fear  I  should 
put  it  into  the  fire,  but  that  you  would  not  like,  and  I 

1  Henry  Seymour  Conway  was  created  Field-Marshal  October  12,  1793. 


BERRYS  AT   LITTLE   STRAWBERRY  HILL     in 

will  trust  your  indulgence.  God  knows !  I  have 
reason. 

I  think  I  may  hear  that  poor  Mrs.  C[holmeley]  comes 
to  town  this  winter.  I  feel  anxious  on  her  account, 
when  I  think  this  decision  may  save,  and  on  yours, 
when  you  are  together  how  different  will  be  and  must 
be  your  sensations ;  if  you  are  to  part  sine  die  or  at  a 
given  time  again  to  meet,  her  woes  will  be  told  differ- 
ently and  heard  differently  by  you,  on  both  sides  with 
less  melancholy  and  with  less  agitation. 

The  weather  is  already  quite  winter,  sharp  to  excess, 
or  windy  and  boisterous.  I  feel  this  more  than  doubly. 
Take  care  of  yourself,  and  let  me  if  possible  see  you 
again  at  least  tolerably  well. 

Farewell ;  to-morrow  I  expect  my  parents  and  I  rather 
believe  Lord  Orford.     Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.1 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Friday  Morning,  December  6,  1793. 

I  feel  uncomfortable  when  more  than  a  day  or  two 
without  writing  to  you.  Yesterday  evening  before  "  The 
Defence  of  Berwick" 2  with  Lord  Orford,  I  thought  myself 
sure  of  an  hour  wholly  with  you,  having  been  one  way 
or  another  prevented  since  your  kind  and  comforting 
letter  of  Tuesday ;  but  the  news  sent  to  the  Admiralty 
in  a  letter  from  Captain  Nugent 3  to  his  wife,  being  then 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  32. 

*  Edward  Jerningham's  play,  The  Siege  of  Berwick,  which  the  Dictionary 
of  National  Biography  states  erroneously  was  produced  on  December  13, 
1793.  Horace  Walpole  mentions  it  in  a  letter  dated  November  23:  "I 
congratulated  '  The  Charming  Man '  highly  on  the  success  of  his  tragedy,  and 
on  his  prologue,  which  I  had  seen  in  the  papers  and  like ;  the  epilogue  they 
say  is  still  better."  Walpole  went  to  see  the  play  on  December  5,  and  "  most 
sincerely  found  it  much  superior  to  my  expectations."  The  Siege  of  Berwick 
was  published  in  1794,  and  reprinted  in  1882  (edited  by  H.  E.  N.  Jerningham). 

8  Captain  (afterwards  Admiral  Charles  Edmund)  Nugent  (1759-1844) 
had  earlier  in  the  year  been  appointed  to  H.M.S.  Veteran,  one  of  the  fleet 
which  went  to  the  West  Indies  under  the  command  of  Sir  John  Jervis. 


ii2  BERRY    PAPERS 

believed,  I  thought  it  incumbent  on  me  to  write  to 
Park  Place  and  also  another  letter  on  the  subject.  This 
took  up  all  my  time  and  did  not  mend  my  temper.  The 
on  dit  of  this  intelligence  is  vanishing  by  degrees,  like  all 
that  hitherto  received,  and  the  general  anxiety  is  great, 
but  of  these  subjects  in  last  page,  not  to  waste  paper, 
as  I  trust  then  this  state  will  be  changed. 

I  must  not  omit  that  Jerningham's  play  went  off 
well,  the  alterations  were  approved,1  and  Lord  Orf[ord] 
much  more  pleased  than  he  expected,  tho'  he  went 
well  disposed  to  the  Governor.  We  got  in,  and  out, 
with  perfect  ease,  and  he  supped  here  afterwards  with 
Mrs.  Stanhope,2  my  sister,3  and  the  Colmans,4  and  he 
was  in  good  spirits  and  not  fatigued. 

I  have  been  dreading  the  weather  we  have  had  for 
you  some  days  past.  Just  now,  indeed,  'tis  better ; 
therefore,  when  you  tell  me  of  your  cold,  the  pain  of 
surprize  is  not  added.  God  grant  you  continue  at  least, 
as  well  as  you  are.  I  know  you  require,  a  degree  of 
health  that  alas  !  seldom  falls  to  your  share  to  begin  an 
English  winter.  For  the  present,  Heaven  bless  you. 
I  must  go  down  to  my  work,  for  the  probable,  at  least 
possible,  time  of  people  coming  in,  once  begun,  I  am 
but  half  myself ,  from  the  expectations  of  interruptions, 
and  have  the  vanity  to  think  you  like  that  but  half 
as  well.  'Tis  a  refinement  when  I  may  expect  further 
leisure  for  I  judge  by  myself,  and  well  know  how  far 
preferable  are  hurried  moments  to  none.     Farewell. 

Friday  evening. — In  spite  of  you  I  am  quiet  to-day. 
You  must  come  and  see  your  orders  put  in  execution,  or 

1  On  the  first  night  of  The  Siege  of  Berwick  the  heroine  died,  but  on 
the  subsequent  representations  her  life  was  spared. 

2  The  wife  of  Colonel  Henry  Fitzroy  Stanhope,  brother  of  Charles 
Stanhope,  third  Earl  of  Harrington.  Horace  Walpole  writes  of  her  to  Mary 
Berry  as  "your  pretty  friend  Mrs.  Stanhope." 

3  The  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

*  (?)  George  Colman  the  younger  (1762-1836),  manager  of  Drury  Lane 
Theatre. 


BERRYS  AT   LITTLE  STRAWBERRY   HILL     113 

there  will  be  bad  discipline,  no  creature  came  this 
morning  to  molest  me,  I  only  -had  a  short  visit  from 
Jerningham,  and  only  shall  go  to  the  Bees  at  a  little 
before  ten.  No,  I  will  not  thank  you  for  your  "scold" 
but  in  memoria  habeo,  yet  you  should  not  find  fault, 
since  it  is  to  you  I  owe  the  power  of  being  alone ;  to 
you  I  owe  the  composure  of  mind  sufficient  to  bear 
for  long  together  what  the  natural  bent  of  my  disposition 
always  led  me  to,  as  the  next  thing  to  being  with  what 
I  love.  'Tis  certain  that  in  the  course  of  my  life  I 
cannot  recollect  wishing  for  gaiety  or  amusement,  tho' 
I  have  taken  both  when  they  came  in  my  way,  and  been 
pleased  with  both.  I  neither  deny  nor  wish  to  deny 
that  I  want  to  be  taken  from  my  melancholy  self,  but 
for  the  world,  we  can  never  now  be  upon  more  than 
civil  terms,  but  while  I  have  another  and  a  dearer 
interest  than  my  own  to  consider,  I  will,  with  scrupulous 
care,  attend  even  to  that  world,  and  to  the  best  of  my 
judgment  do  all  it  requires.  As  to  but  a  grain  of 
comfort,  I  shall  never  more  look  for  that,  but  when  only 
I  am  sure  of  finding  it.  Of  all  plagues,  the  greatest  are 
intimate  acquaintance,  'tis  so  difficult  to  make  them 
remain  where  you  intend,  they  persecute  you  with  their 
company  when  you  do  not  want  them,  and  are  a  bar  to 
all  rational  employment  of  time,  and  if,  when  you  are 
ill  and  unhappy,  or  in  distress,  it  might  be  possible  for 
them  to  relieve  you  in  some  degree,  they  are  too  much 
affected,  the  sight  is  too  over-coming ;  and  they  must 
avoid  you.  I  have  said  all  this  before  I  knew,  and  why 
I  repeat  it  now  I  do  not  know,  for  I  have  not  very  lately 
suffered  in  this  way  to  signify. 

I  like  your  account  of  your  relation,  for  I  can  indeed 
read  "stuff"  that  concerns  you,  and  all  that  belongs  to  you. 
How  plainly  what  you  tell  me  of  him  proves  that  all 
real  sentiments  and  affections  of  the  mind,  and  I  fear 
even  real  passions,  remain,  the  first  I  am  convinced 
unaltered    by  time,   or    absence,   and    the   latter  ever 

H 


ii4  BERRY    PAPERS 

dangerous  and  apt  to  be  renewed.  Therefore  don't 
make  too  long  visits  or  the  piece  of  "cold  elegance" 
will  stand  a  bad  chance,  but  men  have  an  advantage  if 
it  may  be  so  termed,  they  gallop-away,  and  drive  by- 
away  and  game-away,  and  I  know  not  what  away ; 
many  an  infant  passion  weakens  it  before  it  comes  to 
its  growth,  or  has  power,  seriously  to  contend  with 
them,  while  a  poor  helpless  woman  nourishes  with  care 
a  future  tyrant  that  may  destroy  her.  I  say  if  it  can  be 
so  termed,  because  the  fever  of  body  and  mind  some 
men  live  in  is,  after  all,  a  state  but  degrading  to 
humanity.  When  you  can  say  in  truth,  that  I  in  any 
degree  contribute  to  your  comfort  or  composure  of 
mind,  can  I  hear  it  too  often  !  It  is,  Heaven  is  my 
judge  !  my  first  wish,  and  my  mind  is  too  apt  to  run  to 
the  painful  idea  of  adding  to  your  anxieties.  How 
then  must  I  feel  the  thousand  kind  methods  your  friend- 
ship takes  to  sooth  the  melancholy  you  know  I  must  at 
times  suffer  from ! 

Saturday  morning. — I  rather  think  I  shall  send  this 
to-day,  you  may  like  to  find  a  letter  at  York,  and  I  am 
pretty  sure  Lord  Orf[ord]  does  not  mean  to  write  again 
this  week.  I  fear  my  last  page  may  begin  this  morning. 
As  to  news  I  assure  you  the  "  prospect  all  round  "  does 
not  clear,  on  the  contrary,  becomes  more  gloomy. 
Lord  Moira *  got  to  Guernsey,  from  whence  he,  finding 
the  weather  favourable,  sailed  along  the  coast  as  far  as 
Cherbourg,  where  he  was  saluted  by  cannon,  no  friendly 
signal  to  be  seen  on  the  whole  coast,  nor  had  any  firing 
in  these  parts  been  distinguished  for  five  days,  by  the 
last  accounts,  from  all  which  circumstances,  it  is  but 
too  probable  that  the  Royalists  have  been  driven  back, 
for  want  of  timely  succour  and  assistance,  and  that  Lord 

1  Francis  Rawdon-Hastings,  second  Earl  of  Moira  (1754-1826),  created 
Marquis  of  Hastings  1817,  was  sent  in  the  autumn  of  1793  with  a  British 
force  to  support  a  rising  of  the  French  Royalists  in  Brittany.  Moira  was, 
however,  unable  to  achieve  anything. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     115 

Moira's  expedition  will  fail  from  having  been  too  long 
delayed.  This  is  no  secret  now,  yet  if  you  should  see 
it  only  in  a  newspaper,  you  might  doubt.  Lord  Moira 
has  returned  to  Guernsey,  a  station  not  perfectly  secure 
should  bad  weather  come  on.  Still  no  account  of  Lord 
Howe *  since  the  Bellerophon.  The  innumerable  reports 
on  the  subjects  die  away  one  after  the  other  for  want  of 
confirmation,  and  what  must  be  strictly  inter  nos,  accounts 
from  where  our  friend  is,  set's  quern,  are  not  good.  On 
my  asking  last  night  the  Le  bee  (I  will  not  call  him  the 
drone,  for  no  one  ever  less  deserved  the  epithet)  shook  his 
head  as  he  said  "Accounts  are  not  good"  in  a  very  mean- 
ing way,  but  more  I  know  not.  The  French  have  now 
almost  entirely  contrived  to  stop  the  coming  here  of  their 
journals,  so  that  I  shall  have  fewer  scraps  to  send  you,  as 
to  news,  omnia  habeo  Deus  haec  in  meliora  vertat ! 

5  o'clock,  Saturday  evening. — As  I  know  how  the  most 
droll  things  fidget  and  fuss  Lord  Orf[ord],  where  you 
are  concerned,  I  meant  not  to  say  any  more  than  just 
a  chance  hint  I  had  dropped  which  he  noticed  not  at 
the  time,  about  directing  to  you  at  York,  finding  that 
you  had  not  given  him  a  direction  thither  ;  but  to  day, 
as  it  suited  my  schemes  to  have  a  frank,  and  thinking 
it  most  probable  that  by  to-day's  post  he  himself  had 
had  a  letter  from  you,  I  wrote  to  him  for  one.  I  send 
you  his  answer  as  the  best  way  of  giving  you  his 
message,  and  only  add  that  he  said,  in  so  many  words 
before,  u  I  shall  not  write  again  till  /  have  another 
direction."  I  therefore  do  not  quite  think  I  have  pre- 
vented him  from  writing.  I  mean  sending  you  a  letter 
to-day,  and  only  hope  I  am  not  wrong  in  writing  myself 
to-day,  but  I  always  hate  deferring  because  I  do  not  hear 
from  you,  and  particularly  when  you  tell  me,  I  may 
expect  a  longer  "  gap  than  usual."     Your  bust a  is  come 

1  Admiral  Richard  Howe,  Earl  Howe  (1726-1799)  was  at  this  time  in 
command  of  the  Channel  squadron. 

*  The  bust  of  Mary  Berry  executed  by  Mrs.  Darner. 


n6  BERRY    PAPERS 

home,  the  fire  it  has  gone  thro'  was  too  violent,  and 
some  small  cracks  appear,  also  a  blemish  of  their  making 
on  the  right  cheek,  which,  soit  dit  en  passant,  to  a  face 
without  a  blemish  does  not  add  to  the  likeness.  How- 
ever it  is  not  spoiled  for  future  views.  Farewell,  and 
heaven  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Tuesday  Morning,  December  18,  1793. 

Have  no  regret.  Your  letter  yesterday  neither 
found  me  low  nor  in  pain.  I  had  been  well  since  I  last 
wrote  to  you.  I  was  thus  at  my  work  quietly,  for  the 
post  came  in  much  later  than  usual.  My  head  was 
equal  to  the  first  part  of  your  letter,  my  heart  felt 
perhaps  less  equal  to  the  expressions  of  your  kindness. 
Unable  to  thank  you. 

I  shall,  depend  on  it,  exactly  follow  your  injunctions 
with  regard  to  Combe.2  They  are  indeed  according 
to  my  own  opinion  and  inclination,  for,  after  all,  I  never 
knew  good  come  of  courting  bad  spirits  out  of  fear. 
Where  is  one  to  stop  or  whither  may  they  not  lead  one  ? 
But  the  u  firstlings "  of  my  head  often  require  to  be 
confirmed  and  seconded,  and  I  am  too  apt  to  be 
negligent,  to  relax  into  a  carelessness,  where  I  alone  am 
offended,  that  does  not  deserve  the  term  of  "good 
humour,"  for  I  plainly  perceive  (tho'  too  late)  that 
malice  does  not  wither  nor  die  away  of  itself  when 
unsupported  by  truth,  as  I  had  imagined,  but  the  baneful 
seed,  once  sown,  grows  and  flourishes  and  overruns  all, 
unless  timely  care  be  taken  to  prevent  it.  I  am  not 
sure  I  ever  saw  the  poem  you  mention,  but  what  you 
say  brings  some  circumstances  to  my  mind  and  recollec- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  35- 
1  See  ante,  p.  44. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     117 

tion  which  make  me  think  I  once  saw  it  by  chance. 
My  aversion  and  contempt  for  such  productions,  even 
when  I  guessed  not  half  their  mischief,  made  me  never 
seek  them,  and  I  had  no  one  who  could  and  would  show 
me  the  necessity  of,  in  some  measure,  attending  to 
them  that  even  such  images,  such  frequent  odious 
representations  of  my  character  can  not  affect  you 
towards  me,  I  feel ;  and  you,  as  you  justly  express 
yourself,  now  know  the  worst.  Bad  that  is,  and  miser- 
able, and  my  heart  sinks  when  I  reflect  on  what  you 
suffer  for  the  faults,  follies,  and  sins  of  others,  how  have 
I  not  to  be  thankful !  and  often  in  my  solitary  hours 
do  I  wonder  and  thank  that  kind  Fate  that  has  pro- 
tected and  befriended  me  with  you.  I  am  glad  you 
wrote  me  what  you  did.  I  prefer  that  to  having  the 
first  moments  after  a  long  absence  wholly  taken  up, 
on  that  cruel  subject,  and  still  more  would  I  have  it 
so,  from  my  right,  that  for  no  consideration  will  I  ever 
give  up  [?]  constantly  as  soon  as  possible  to  partake 
your  griefs  and  anxieties,  even  were  they  not  my 
own. 

Wednesday  evening. — I  meant  to  go  out  late  yesterday 
evening,  and  to  have  first  a  quiet,  comfortable  hour  or 
two,  and  to  write  in  peace  to  you,  but  my  stupid  head, 
instead  of  waiting  for  your  dear  shoulder,  took  such  a 
fit  of  aching,  that  I  was  unfit  for  anything.  Do  not 
imagine  that  what  you  mentioned  in  your  letter  the 
day  before  was  in  any  degree  the  cause  of  this,  for  I 
am  certain  it  was  not,  which  I  would  not  say  if  I 
thought  otherwise,  and  I  by  no  means  even  wish  you 
to  think  me  not  affected  by  any  renewal  of  these  subjects  ; 
but  what  even  I  may  feel,  it  is  not  like  the  agitation 
from  any  new  occurence,  as  the  torture  from  having 
by  my  own  carelessness  incurred  any  fresh  censure. 
"  Sed  hoc  hdctenus." 

My  head  feels  a  little  weak  to-day,  but  free  from  pain. 
I  expect  Lord  Orf[ord]  to  call,  and  I  shall  by  and  by 


n8  BERRY    PAPERS 

go  to  my  sister's.  It  is  the  advantage  of  suffering,  few 
things  have  not  this  light  side  !  After  feeling  much  and 
oppressive  pain,  the  mere  cessation  of  that  pain  be- 
comes a  sober  species  of  enjoyment.  Would  to  Heaven 
you  did  not  know  this  too  well !  I  have  not,  I  assure 
you,  overdone  Lord  Orfford].  The  two  plays  in  one 
week  were  his  own  seeking,  and  I  could  not  perceive 
him  in  the  slightest  degree  the  worse  for  them.  I 
commonly  enquire  and  take  care  that  he  is  not  alone 
the  whole  evening.  This  has,  I  believe,  been  but  once 
the  case  since  he  came.  We  have  often  been  to  the 
Bee's  together,  who  has  an  infinite  regard  for  him,  and 
I  know  not  anyone,  the  family  excepted,  that  she  sees 
with  more  pleasure.  Poor  Bee  !  how  light  do  her  faults 
appear,  setting  them  at  the  worse,  when  compared 
with  dark  malice  and  the  ruin  of  another's  happiness 
for  a  song.  She  has  not  in  her  whole  composition  a 
grain  of  guile,  or  ill  nature.  I  was  interrupted  by  Lord 
Orfford].  He  came  complaining  and  tired,  having  been, 
he  said,  "  talked  to  death  "  [by]  Lady  C.  Tufton  at  Mrs. 
Bute's1  last  night,  and  is  gone  to  the  Doyleys'.  The 
child  has  always  a  tendency  to  being  fretful  when  you 
are  not  in  the  way  to  keep  him  in  order,  but  I  know  not 
when  I  have  seen  him  so  little  so,  as  [since]  he  came  to 
town,  which  I  hope  may  be  set  down  to  better  health, 
for  I  am  sure  it  cannot  to  less  anxiety,  less  impatience, 
and  less  fidget  about  you.  He  had  had  a  letter  on 
Monday  from  you  without  a  date,  and  would  not  guess 
when  it  was  written,  from  whence,  or  when  you  meant 
to  be  in  town.  He  never  supposes  I  can  have  heard, 
and  when  I  tell  him  I  have,  never  minds  one  wordjcw 
tell  me.  I,  therefore,  seeing  which  way  the  wind  sat, 
let  him  run  on,  and  did  not  say  I  had  had  a  letter  with 

1  Charlotte  Jane,  eldest  daughter  and  co-heiress  of  Herbert  Windsor 
Hickman,  second  Viscount  Windsor,  married  in  1776  John  Stuart,  fourth  Earl, 
and  afterwards  first  Marquis,  of  Bute  (1774-1814).  She  died  in  1800,  in 
which  year  Lord  Bute  married  again. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     119 

a  date.  For  a  thousand  untellable  reasons,  this  is  often 
better,  and  yet,  naturally,  it  is  a  sort  of  thing  I  do  not 
like,  but  I  am  not  to  be  myself.  I  hinted  not  a  word 
of  your  sister,  you  may  imagine  quite  well.  He  does 
not  at  all  expect  to  see  either  of  you,  I  know,  but  often 
talks  with  regret  of  the  delicacy  of  your  constitutions, 
and  repeats  that  you  are  never  both  well  together, — if 
the  one  is  better,  the  other  is  unwell. 

I  am  glad  you  have  received  encouragement  about 
your  play,1  for  I  want  you  to  go  on  with  it,  quite  con- 
vinced you  can  succeed,  for  I  don't  give  up  my  judge- 
ment, tho'  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  you  having  more 
confidence  in  my  affection,  and  now,  for  to-night,  heaven 
bless  you. 

Thursday  morning. — Think  of  Sheridan,2  Lord  Lauder- 
dale,3 and  Mrs.  Grey,  going  yesterday  in  a  sort  of 
deputation  to  demand  the  suspension  of  the  sentence 
against  one  Muir  4  (I  think  the  name  is,  you  will  have 
read  of  him),  who  was  legally  tried,  condemned,  and 
in  open  day,  thro'  a  hissing,  shouting  populace,  con- 
ducted to  prison  in  Scotland,  and  having  been  found 
guilty  of  writing  seditious  pamphlets,  he  is  now  in  the 
Hulks,  sentenced  to   be   transported,  and  thither,  with 

1  Mary  Berry  was  writing  a  comedy  in  five  acts,  Fashionable  Friends, 
which  was  later  played  at  Strawberry  Hill,  and  in  May  1802  was  produced  at 
Drury  Lane,  where  it  proved  a  failure. 

*  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  dramatist  and  politician  (1751-1816). 

8  James  Maitland,  eighth  Earl  of  Lauderdale  (1759-1839). 

4  Muir  and  Palmer,  sentenced  to  transportation  for  sedition.  See  Howell's 
State  Trials,  xxiii.  117,  237. 

Lord  Lauderdale  in  the  following  April  made  a  further  protest  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  "You  had  also  had  another  loss  of  a  similar  kind  in  not 
hearing  Lord  Mansfield  in  answer  to  Lord  Lauderdale's  motion  for  overhaul- 
ing the  sentence  against  Muir  and  Palmer.  He  completely  overset  all 
Lauderdale's  facts,  his  law,  his  arguments,  and  his  inferences  ;  and  the  best 
proof  I  can  give  you  of  its  effects  is  that  it  appeared  to  be  spoken  as  fast  as 
anyone  could  wish,  and  that  he  was,  after  the  first  five  minutes,  as  completely 
in  possession  of  the  attention  of  his  audience  as  any  speaker  ever  was  upon 
any  occasion." — The  Duke  of  Portland  to  William  Windham  (Windham 
Papers,  i.  212). 


120  BERRY    PAPERS 

the  addition  of  C.'s  son,  did  they  go  to  visit  this  mis- 
creant. It  was  to  Dundas x  that  they  came,  declaring 
themselves  determined  to  pursue  this  business  to  the 
utmost,  both  in  Parliament  and  out  of  Parliament.  He 
answered  them  that  there  were  proper  methods  to 
be  taken,  if  they  chose  to  make  enquiries  concerning 
any  criminal,  which  they  might  take  at  pleasure  ;  after- 
wards drolly  asked  Lord  Lauderdale  if  he  was  not  very 
sorry  for  the  loss  of  his  friends  in  France.  He  had  not 
a  word  to  say,  but  Sheridan  said  sharply,  "Aye,  you 
ministers  have  suffered  all  the  good  ones  to  be  murdered  ; 
those  that  are  left  now  are  too  bad  to  deal  with."  News 
I  have  none,  Lord  Howe  as  you  will  know  returned, 
without,  however,  the  loss  of  a  frigate  as  it  was  reported. 
As  to  your  Amor  Patrice,  a  few  hints  of  yours  have  quite 
satisfied  me,  and  without  them  I  should  have  rested. 
I  should  not  like  differing  with  you  in  common  politics, 
but  in  these  so  «»common  it  would  set  me  sadly  at 
variance  with  myself. 

I  have  only  to  add  farewell,  since  morning.  I  say 
nothing  of  my  near  hope  of  seeing  you,  need  I  ?  How 
and  what  I  feel  you  know.  This  I  think,  will,  for  this 
time  be  my  last  letter  to  you.  I  will  send  it  now, 
not  be  "too  exact"  at  last,  and  allowing  for  delays 
of  the  post,  you  may  not  have  it  long  before  you 
set  out.  Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.  Farewell, 
farewell.2 

The  year  1794  was  uneventful  for  the  Berry s.  The 
early  part  they  spent  at  Little  Strawberry  Hill,  and  in 
July  Agnes  went  to  Cheltenham  with  Mrs.  Lockhart, 
and  Mary  and  her  father  to  Park  Place  as  guests  of  the 
Conways.     In  September  the  family  rented  for  a  month 

1  Henry  Dundas,  afterwards  first  Viscount  Melville  ( 1742-18 11),  at  this 
time  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home  Department. 

2  Add.  MSS.  37727-  f-  37- 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     121 

Prospect  House  near  Broadstairs,  where  there  was 
plenty  of  company  both  near  them  and  at  Kingsgate 
and  Margate.  There  the  Miss  Berrys  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greathead,1  who  had  been 
known  to  their  father  for  several  years. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  April  z%  I794- 

The  pleasure  and  comfort  which  the  idea  of  seeing 
you  sooner  than  I  expected  has  given  me  a  feel  I  never 
wish  to  combat,  certain  that  it  cannot  lead  me  to 
interfere  with  what  may  be  for  your  good.  The  sky 
is  clouded  over,  and  should  the  weather  change  I  shall 
see  you  to-morrow  without  a  regret.  For  a  wonder,  as 
to  engagements,  what  I  can  do  almost  exactly  suits  with 
what  you  would  wish.  To-morrow  Mrs.  Hervey's  is  a 
day,  and  I  may  choose  what  part  of  it  I  am  to  pass  there, 
and  am  not  expected  for  the  whole.  I  shall,  therefore, 
choose  dinner  and  stay  (I  promise  you)  as  long  as  I  ought 
afterwards.  That  being  the  case,  you  will,  as  I  imagine, 
like  going  early  to  Lord  Orf[ord].  You  will  have  his 
carriage.  I  shall  come  afterwards  to  B[erkeley]  Square 
and  will  set  you  down  at  home.  I  believe  this  is  what 
you  would  prefer,  things  being  as  they  are.  I  shall 
tell  him  to  have  his  tub  in  readiness.  I  sent  him  a  note 
to  say  I  would  come  to  him  this  evening,  but  he  don't 
care  for  me,  and  says  "  as  they  come  to-morrow  "  that 

1  Bertie  Greathead  (1759- 1826),  the  son  of  Samuel  Greathead,  of  Guy's 
Cliffe,  Warwickshire,  by  his  wife  Lady  Mary  Bertie,  daughter  of  Peregrino, 
2nd  Duke  of  Ancaster.  He  was  the  author  of  a  volume  of  poems,  The  Arno 
Miscellany  (1784),  and  a  contributor  to  The  Florence  Miscellany  (1785), 
which  latter  publication  was  unsparingly  attacked  by  Gifford  in  the  Baviad 
and  in  the  Maviad.  In  1788  a  play  of  his,  The  Regent,  was  produced  at 
Drury  Lane,  with  John  Kemble  and  Mrs.  Siddons  in  the  cast,  but  it  was  not 
successful. 


122  BERRY    PAPERS 

he  shall,  go  this  evening  to  Lady  Bute's."  He  desires 
me  to  tell  you  in  his  note,  that  having  no  further  news 
for  you  ("  I  sent  the  victory  yesterday,"  is  his  expression) 
he  does  not  write  to  you  to-day.  I  really  am  glad  you 
give  up  the  play  for  the  day  on  which  you  arrive.  The 
hurry  would  be  uncomfortable,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fatigue,  which  I  should  feel,  even  if  you  did  not.  So 
much  for  arrangements,  and  I  hope  I  am  clear.  Further 
preliminaries  or  rather  articles  we  will  settle  when  we  meet. 

I  am  grieved  at  what  you  say  respecting  which 

I  see  in  a  sad,  dangerous  light,  'tis  so  like  that  common- 
place jeu  of  modern  gallantry — an  affected  quarrel,  a 
separation,  a  marriage,  and  then  a  reconciliation  carried 
on  coolly  with  scarcely  a  shadow  of  passion  on  one 
side,  while  the  wretched  victim,  robbed  of  innocence 
and  peace,  is  by  real  passion  torn  and  distracted.  I 
know  nothing,  and  too  well  I  do  know  nothing  so 
cruel  and  mortifying  to  a  proud  soul  as  that  feel  of  subjec- 
tion, being  at  the  disposal  of  what  one  can  not  know  as 
well  as  love,  for  so  it  is.  Whatever  other  qualities 
even  may  be  negatively  good,  even  where  passion  is 
concerned,  who  can  in  their  judgement  admire  a  cold 
heart  that  allows  interest,  selfish  considerations,  and 
even  convenience  to  step  in,  and  set  by  all  the  suffering 
occasioned  to  another ;  and  the  worst  of  worsts  is  where 
anyone  is  not  sensible  of  their  own  situation,  for  in  this 
I  am  certain,  confidence  is  ruin — I  mean  confidence  in 
themselves,  chance,  indifference  in  another  and  avoiding 
an  unequal  conflict,  are  the  only  hopes  of  security. 
Merciful  Heaven  will  surely  at  some  period  look  with 
an  eye  of  pity  on  the  sufferings  of  the  virtuous  minds, 
unable  at  all  times  to  stem  the  dreadful  tide  of  passion  ! 
u  utor permissis  "  I  may  say,  I  am  indulging  myself  in  a 
letter  but  you  said  that  I  might  write  to  Farnham  or  send 
a  note  to  North  Audley  Street,  and  I  was  uncomfortably 
hurried  yesterday.  You  ask  me  what  is  my  English 
castle.     A  few,  a  very  few  rooms   in   a  good  farmer's 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     123 

house  near  the  sea,  a  fine  coast,  some  trees,  and  no 
town.  I  add  one  room  when  the  castle  is  in  Spain.  I  am 
quite  serious,  for  the  more  I  see  the  more  I  am  con- 
vinced, that  in  itself,  that  is  the  sort  of  place  by  way 
of  a  summer  residence  that  I  should  prefer,  but  about 
place — the  only  thing  I  can  command — I  have  a  melan- 
choly indifference,  when  indeed  compared  and  put  in  the 
balance  with  what  really  interest  ?  not  the  "animal." — 
what  can  signify !  As  on  this  subject  I  do  not  even 
wish  to  feel  otherwise,  I  shall  not  complain. 

Lord  Orf[ord]  sent  me  Mrs.  Piozzi.1  I  read  just  the 
beginning,  and  then  sent  him  back  his  book  that  I  may 
read  it  with  your  marks,  for  that  I  do  love.  That  I  may 
not  forget,  Lord  Orf[ord]  came  here  and  goes  to  Lady 
Bute  on  the  score  of  its  being  a  ground  floor.  Whether' 
or  not  he  will  think  himself  able  to  come  to  you  to- 
morrow I  know  not.  If  he  does,  and  that  you  settle 
it  so,  I  shall  come  to  you  also.  Give  yourself  no  further 
trouble,  as  I  shall  take  care  and  find  out  that  from  him 
to-morrow.  Heaven  bless  you.  I  hope  you  have  not 
made  your  solitary  walks  too  long,  or  too  frequent. 
That  is  all  I  require,  I  do  not  forbid  them.  That  would 
indeed  be  too  like  the  poor  fox,  "  a  chicken  too  might  do 
me  good."  Farewell,  and  rest  assured  that  the  greatest 
comfort  I  can  receive  on  earth  is  from  the  idea  of 
ever  being  a  consolation  to  you.  Once  more,  Heaven 
bless  you* 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Goodwood,  Saturday  Morning,  October  1 8,  1 794. 

Heaven  forbid  you  should  ever  consider  in  what  state 
your  mind  happens  to  be  when  you  write,  speak,  or  do 

1  Mrs.  Piozzi's  book,  British  Synonymy,  was  published  in  this  year. 
■  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  39- 


124  BERRY    PAPERS 

not  speak,  to  me.1  That  is  one  of  the  few  privileges 
I  have  always  so  earnestly  entreated  of  you, — and  indeed 
I  have  entreated  none  of  you  that  I  have  not  thought 
necessary  to  the  perfect  and  unchanging  preservation  of 
our  friendship — nor,  I  think,  am  I  quite  without  know- 
ledge of  the  human  heart. — I  should  not  be  so  at  least, 
for  I  have  seen  a  sad  variety,  yet  still  in  some  points  all 
agreeing.  I  would  most  willingly  assist  and  support 
you  in  the  resolutions  you  hint  at  respecting  your  com- 
panions— nay,  all  I  can  do  from  this  moment  I  will  do 
— but  you  must  mind  me. — You  certainly  are  apt  to 
think  too  deeply  on  all  subjects,  as  I  have  more  than 
once  said  to  you,  and  you  so  devote  yourself  and  every 
thought,  and  exertion  of  your  mind  to  what  ought  to  be, 
that  you  do  not  sufficiently  attend  to  what  can  be — 
hence,  from  the  very  superior  strength  and  excellence 
of  your  character,  less  happyness  to  yourself  and  less 
advantage  to  those  you  would  serve  at  the  expense  of 
your  own  quiet  and  comfort.  I  am  thoroughly  con- 
vinced that  if  you  really  and  seriously  set  about  "  pleas- 
ing yourself  more,"  you  will  please  your  companions 
more,  and  that  by  greater  ease  on  common  occurrences, 
you  will  acquire  greater  power  of  persuading  or  con- 
vincing on  serious  occasions,  and  where  the  exertion  of 
your  better  judgement  is  more  absolutely  required.  I 
know  not  if  I  am  understood,  but  if  you  really  think  on 
this  that  my  judgement  will  not  fail  me,  and  you  know 

1  Mrs.  Damer  had  been  summoned  to  Goodwood,  where  her  sister,  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond,  had  suddenly  been  taken  ill. 

Mrs.  Damer  had  in  the  previous  month  removed  from  Sackville  Street, 
London,  to  9  Upper  Brook  Street,  where  Horace  Walpole  visited  her  on 
September  27.  "I  went  yesterday  to  Mrs.  Damer,"  he  wrote  to  the  Berrys 
on  the  following  day,  ' '  and  had  a  glimpse  of  her  new  house ;  literally  a 
glimpse,  for  I  saw  but  one  room  on  the  first  floor,  where  she  had  lighted  a 
fire,  that  I  might  not  mount  two  flights :  and  as  it  was  eight  o'clock 
and  quite  dark,  she  only  opened  a  door  or  two,  and  gave  me  a  cat's-eye 
view  into  them.  One  blemish  I  had  descried  at  first ;  the  house  has  a 
corner  arrival  like  her  father's.  Ah  me  1  who  does  not  love  to  be  led  through 
the  public." 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     125 

my  heart  will  not,  let  me  hear  more  of  it.  Tell  me, 
whenever  you  have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  or  writing 
to  me,  the  particular  subject  or  cause  that  may  have 
occasioned  your  vexation  or  anxiety.  I  shall  be  the 
better  enabled  to  tell  you  what  to  avoid, — and  oh  ! 
could  I  indeed  but  assist  you,  could  I  but  contribute 
to  that  peace  and  composure  of  mind  my  soul  so 
anxiously  wishes  for  you !  It  is,  I  call  Heaven  to 
witness !  my  constant  prayer.  In  short,  if  you  trust 
me  on  this  subject,  I  will  "correct  your  faults" 
with  as  much  severity  as  if  I  did  not  feel  proud  of 
them. 

Sunday  morn,  9  o'clock. — I  this  moment  receive  the 
few  lines  that  tell  me  what  are  your  intended  motions, 
which  I  always  like  to  know,  and  thank  you  for  even 
half  a  letter.  I  am  not  at  all  sorry  either  that  you  now 
leave  your  exposed  situation  : 1  storms  and  dark  nights 
at  this  season,  in  such  a  place,  really  grow  serious  con- 
siderations, and  sat  est  quod  sufficit. — This  same  sat  may 
not  equally  do  for  you  and  the  Greatheads.2  As  you  do 
not  "  much  care  about "  seeing  me  now  in  town,  I  have 
deferred  my  going  till  Wednesday,  for  I  shall  always  feel 
in  that  case  that  I  ought  not  to  see  you,  and  indeed 
arriving,  as  it  were,  the  same  day  in  town  may  be  better 
avoided.  A  day  or  two  longer  here  is  as  well,  tho'  in 
the  present  state  of  things  I  believe,  were  you  yourself 
a  witness,  you  would  think  little  necessary.  In  all 
respecting  Physicians,  &c,  &c,  I  do  flatter  myself  that 
I  have  been  of  real  and  serious  use,  but  as  to  comfort. 
I  do  not  see  my  sister3  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the 
day.  She  had,  I  dare  say,  rather  I  stayed  in  the  house 
than  not,  at  any  time,  as  I  am  no  trouble, — and  is  neither 

1  The  Berrys  were  staying  at  Prospect  House,  near  Broadstairs. 

*  Bertie  Greathead  (or  Greatheed),  of  Guy's  Cliffe,  near  Warwick  (1759- 
1826),  author  of  a  tragedy,  The  Regent,  produced  at  Drury  Lane,  1788,  and 
of  many  poems.  Her  son,  Bertie,  an  amateur  artist,  died  at  Vicenza, 
October  8,  1804,  in  his  twenty-fourth  year. 

8  The  Duchess  of  Richmond,  the  hostess  of  Goodwood. 


126  BERRY    PAPERS 

insensible  to  neglect  on  one  side,  or  attentions  on  the 
other — but  devoting  time  and  life  where  there  is  neither 
sympathy  nor  similarity  of  character,  I  am  persuaded, 
never  yet  made  the  happyness  of  any  two,  or  one  of 
two,  persons  living. 

I  shall  probably  set  out  late  on  Wednesday,  sleep  at 
Godalming,  and  get  to  town  the  next  morning. — I  do 
assure  you  that  this  place  is  now  anything  but  pleasant, 
or  comfortable, — 'tis  an  uncertainty  of  hours — and  such 
shoals  of  heterogeneous  bodies — officers  and  the  Lord 
knows  who,  reviews,  and  long  dinners,  at  which  we 
must  assist,  and  Todlef  out  of  mere  civility  you  will 
think,  I  walk  with  and  see  much  more  of  than  I  wish, 
or  than  my  spirits  have  felt  equal  to.  She,  however,  is 
always  wishing  to  oblige,  and  is  quite  on  the  right  side 
of  the  question  respecting  my  sister.  I  often  repeat  to 
myself  your  expression  "  how  few  are  those  that  one 
may  not  know  too  well."  You  will  either  send  me  a 
letter  here,  or  not,  as  you  like,  or  can,  as  far  as 
Wednesday  morn.  (I  mean  one  sent  on  Monday  or 
Tuesday)  I  shall  receive  ;  or  perhaps  I  may  find  one  on 
Thursday  when  I  come  to  town  to  comfort  and  con- 
sole me. 

I  am  not  quite  sure  what  you  mean  at  the  end  of 
your  last  letter  but  one  about  manner.  I  wish  I  was. 
Surely  it  is  not  again  my  manner  to  you.  You  will 
really  make  me  quite  miserable.  I  wrote  to  you  on  the 
day  you  desired,  that  is,  sent  my  letter  the  day  after  I 
received  yours,  and  that  you  could  only  have  yesterday. 
'Tis  as  well ;  you  might,  perhaps  have  desired  me,  as 
my  time  for  going  was  so  near,  to  meet  you  in  town, 
and  I  believe  'tis  better  I  should  not,  upon  the  whole. 
I  do  not  send  you  Lord  Orf[ord]'s  letters,  but  keep 
them  carefully  for  you,  as  you  may  imagine.  You  will 
tell  me  when  you  would  have  them  again.  Not  a 
word  did  I  know  of  Mrs.  Stan[hope].  I  quite  agree 
with   you,   she   may  do   in   the   vortex,   but    she   must 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL      127 

beware  of  becomeing  too  tracassee,  or  she  will  sink 
to  rise  no  more. — Poor  Mrs.  Chom[eley]  !  no  explana- 
tion of  the  state  of  her  mind  is,  as  you  say,  necessary. 
That  she  will  continue  to  mend  if  the  separation  con- 
tinues I  have  no  doubt — but  we  agree  too  perfectly 
on  the  subject  to  make  further  comments  at  present 
necessary. 

As  to  Strawb[erry  Hill]  I  say  nothing  as  to  my  time 
of  going  there.  It  must  depend  on  him,  and  I  rather 
think  he  will  prefer  a  little  time  to  himself,  and  to  enjoy- 
ing your  return  without  interruption.  Thus  I  shall  be 
welcome.  Two  days  will  come — elapse — and  then  we  shall 
part ;  but  while  even  my  regrets  are  dear  to  me,  I  can 
bear  anything.  —  Farewell.  —  Last  night  Mr.  Lennox 
arrived  after  eight  months'  absence  from  the  West 
Indias.  Todle,  with  the  loquacious  fidget  of  a  very 
moderate  understanding,  had  been  for  long  before  I 
came  harping  upon  her  one  thing  of  expectation,  to 
nothing  but  deaf  ears,  or  ears  that  wished  themselves  deaf, 
— and  when  he  came  he  looked  so  like  a  bear  led  to  the 
stake  ! — I  am  sure,  had  such  been  the  one  thing  of  my 
heart,  it  would  have  broke. — Once  more,  farewell,  and 
Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Saturday  Evening,  August  i,  1795. 

Lord  Orf[ord]  and  Mr.  Hope  both  gone  this  morning. 
I  feel  a  sort  of  melancholy  repose,  and  repose  of  any 
sort  I  began  absolutely  to  require.  I  am  heartily  glad 
Lord  Orf[ord]  came  here,  for  a  thousand  reasons,  but 
tho'  I  saw  him  go  with  regret,  I  can  not  be  sorry  he  is 
gone,  for,  as  you  say,  he  could  do  none  of  us  any  good. 
His  spirits  were  low  and  oppressed,  but,  poor  soul !  he 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  196. 


128  BERRY    PAPERS 

was  perfectly  in  good  humour,  and  never  did  I  see  him 
show  so  little  impatience.  Yet,  as  I  know,  leaving  this 
place  was  a  relief  to  him,  I  could  not  wish  him  to  stay. 
I  was  particularly  pleased  with  the  justice  he  did  my 
mother,  and  nothing  but  having  seen  her  himself  at 
this  trying  moment  would  have  convinced  him,  or 
even  given  him  any  idea  of  her  conduct,  gentleness, 
and  composure.1 

I  have  read  over  and  over  what  you  say  of  future 
plans  for  my  mother. — Oh,  my  friend  !  "  This  string 
indeed  like  all  others,  touched  by  either,  vibrates  equally 
in  the  breast  of  both."  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  need  not 
add  with  comfort  to  myself,  that  at  present  my  mother 
seems  perfectly  disposed  to  enter  into  every  reasonable 
arrangement,  and  not  at  all  objects  to  my  solicitude  to 
find  her  a  house  in  our  neighbourhood.  She  seems  also 
to  have  entirely  made  up  her  mind  to  parting  with  this 
place,  and  these  are  the  two  great  objects  of  my  solici- 
tude for  her,  as  unless  she  does  part  with  this  place  the 
remainder  of  her  life  will  be  a  scene  of  uncomfort  and 
derangement.  Never  did  you  see  a  creature  so  unused 
and  so  unequal  to  business.  Thank  Heaven  !  she  is 
sensible  of  this  herself. — All  this  nearly  Lord  Orf[ord] 
will  have  told  you,  but  you  do  not  mind  repetitions. 
As  you  make  me  your  confessor  'tis  but  fair  I  in  return 
should  confess  my  faith  to  you.  I  will  therefore  confess 
that  standing  I  know  not  how  long  in  my  father's  room 
(I  before  mentioned)  with  my  esprit  dordre,  sitting, 
examining  and  arranging,  &c,  &c,  I  this  morning  found 
my  knee,  on  which  I  had  omitted  to  put  the  bandage,  so 
bad  that  I  with  difficulty  go  upstairs.  But  I  will,  I 
promise  you,  be  more  careful.  I  rubbed  and  bandaged 
it  up  immediately,  sat  quiet  for  some  time,  and  now  limp 
about  with  great  care,  and  already  I  feel  it  better,  so 
that  I  trust  and  believe  that  what  I  then  felt  was  tem- 

1  Field-Marshal  the  Hon.  Henry  Seymour  Conway  died  at  Park  Place, 
July  9,  1795.  in  his  seventy-fifth  year. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL      129 

porary.  So  much  for  truth.  I  upon  the  whole  really 
must  not  complain  of  health,  for  I  am  better  than  I 
could  expect,  all  considered. 

Monday  morning. — Such  a  dismal  wind  did  I  wake  to 
this  morning,  blowing  full  against  my  window !  It  is 
really  true,  and  as  it  happens  fortunate,  that  this  place, 
in  spite  of  all  its  charms  will  not  as  far  as  regards 
myself  only  be  much  regretted.  There  is  a  something 
of  eternal  storm  and  winter  about  it  that  one  never 
entirely  escapes,  for  as  one  sits  sheltered  even  by  thick 
wood  and  evergreens,  the  wind  is  heard  blowing  over 
one's  head  and  agitating  the  higher  trees.  To  all  this 
I  am  the  more  sensible  as  the  air  certainly  is  too  sharp 
for  me,  and  after  all  the  beauties  merely  of  an  inland 
place  are  not  of  those  that  delight  me,  not  quce  me  mihi 
rapiunt.  In  short,  I  every  day  more  clearly  see  the 
folly  of  stretching  one's  views  beyond  one's  powers. 
What  matters  thousands  of  acres,  to  the  order  and 
cultivation  of  which  one  cannot  attend !  And  cannot 
a  solitary  stroll  be  taken  with  as  much  pleasure  over 
lands  the  Law  has  not  marked  for  our  own  !  But 
when  my  reflections  take  another  bent,  when  I  think 
of  the  pride  and  pleasure  of  a  father,  the  occupa- 
tion of  his  most  grateful  hours,  a  place  adorned  by 
his  taste,  trees  planted,  grown  and  improved  under 
his  hands — now  destined  to  some  unknown  possessor, 
perhaps  to  be  mangled  and  destroyed,  a  prey  to  vile 
Interest,  or  false  Taste, — Barbarus  has  segetes — I  am  not 
so  philosophic. 

Tuesday  morn. — I  was  particularly  anxious  and 
wishing  to  hear  from  you,  and  this  morning  your  letter 
came.  Whence  or  from  whom  but  yourself  ever  comes 
to  me  what  I  most  wish,  when  I  most  wish  ! — Never 
talk  of  "  clouding  my  prospects,"  think  only  what  they 
would  appear  to  me  without  you.  I  am  sorry  now 
that  I  did  not  send  a  letter  sooner,  as  you  expected 
rather  to  have  one  to-day.    That  I  gave  up  a  gratifica- 

1 


130  BERRY    PAPERS 

tion  to  myself  you  will  know  in  not  sending  one,  and 
indeed  of  late  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  I  am  obliged 
to  calculate    and    ^-calculate   before   I    can   convince 
myself  that  many  more  days  are  not  passed  than  really 
are  passed  ;  hence  I  am  obliged  to  keep  myself  in  order, 
or  you  would  have  letters  from  me  every  day.     First 
I  must  advert  to  one  part  of  your  letter.     My  dear  soul  ! 
is   not  a  progressive  amendment   in   disorders  of  the 
mind  or  body,  all  we  can  expect  and  almost  all  we 
ask  ?      For    Heaven's    sake,    consider    not    so    deeply 
circumstances  in  some  degree  common  to  all,  depend 
on  what  I  say.     At  the  same  time,  do  not  think  I  feel 
otherwise  than  I  do  all  that  affects  you,  that  I  do  not 
regret   past   causes   of   complaints   and   grieve   at   any 
present  for  you,  more,  and  you  will   believe  I   say  it 
with  truth  more  than  for  myself  I  ever  could. — Continue 
but  to  deposit  every  thought  in  my  breast ;  you  know 
if  you  will  find  there  a  sympathising  heart. — Be  assured 
that  you  will  in  time  wholly  conquer  these  unpleasant 
sensations  and  momentos,  and  most  particularly  if  Time 
pays   you   any  of   the   long   arrears   of    comforts  and 
enjoyments    due    to   your   virtues. — For   it    is   certain, 
placed  in  a  situation,  as  you  often  say,  so  unfitted  to  a 
mind  like  yours,  surrounded  by  those   among   whom 
(in  spite  of  their  many  and  separate  merits)  you  might 
frequently  exclaim  with  poor  Ovid  u  hie  barbara  vocar 
quia  non  intelligor  ab  Mis"  that  mind  must  suffer  and 
communicate  its  want  of  repose  to  every  nerve  of  your 
delicate  frame. — Alas  !  that  this  should  not  be  evident 
and  that  you  should  not  be  even  spared  by  those  who 
love  you  most.     For  Heaven's  sake  !  at  least  remember 
that  you  are  "convinced,"  and  follow  up  the  convictions, 
that  those  who  are  different  from  yourself  are   never 
to  be  made  like  yourself — and  do  not  take  up  things  for 
others  so  much  more  seriously  than  they  do  for  them- 
selves,  nor   think   that   every   clouded    brow   proves  a 
broken  heart. 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     131 

For  Ag[nes] 1  I  am  sure  I  pity  her,  and  from  my 
soul  regret  her  ill  luck,  with  every  power  to  please 
hitherto,  and  now  to  have  pleased  only  where  cir- 
cumstances seem  a  bar  to  any  advantage  she  might 
derive,  yet  as  this  passion  is  one  of  many,  you  need 
not  fear  graviora  quam  the  loss  of  others  produced. — 
Bad  enough,  you  will  say,  and  truly,  but  it  might  be 
worse. 

For  Mrs.  Chom[eley],  I  am  downrightly  angry  with 
her,  and  quite  provoked  at  what  you  tell  me,  the  begin- 
ning of  which  I  saw,  as  I  told  you,  the  evening  she 
passed  with  me. — There  is  not  a  doubt  but  the  Parson 
will  lean  towards  the  softest  cushion.  I  should  exhort 
you  to  speak  soundly  to  her,  but  that  you  want  no  spirit- 
ing upon  these  occasions  :  on  the  contrary,  Heaven 
knows !  when  you  think  the  honour  or  welfare  of 
others  in  the  highest  degree  were  concerned.  Do  not, 
therefore,  mix  yourself  too  much  in  all  this,  but  let 
them  fight  it  out  among  them,  or  you  will  remain 
the  only  one  deeply  wounded.  u  Let  everybody  have 
their  own  way,"  but  me.  You  have  said  it,  and  be 
assured  that  this  way  everybody  will  be  best  pleased 
and  you  relieved  from  much  infructuous  and  unneces- 
sary torment. 

I  cannot  help  thinking,  rather  flattering  myself,  that 
Cheltenham,  or  any  change  of  scene,  may  be  of  service 
to  you  both ;  for  our  meeting,  so  melancholy,  I  can 
only  not  wish  it  over,  because  I  know  not  when  again 
I  may  look  to  the  only  pleasure  I  have  on  earth — 
seeing  you. 

I  am  pleased  that  you  shewed  your  play  to  Playfair,2 


1  Agnes  Berry,  Mary's  younger  sister. 

*  Professor  John  Playfair  (1748-1819),  the  eminent  mathematician. 
When  he  first  met  the  Berrys  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  from  1 795  he  kept 
up  an  irregular  correspondence  with  the  elder  sister.  Probably  their  last 
meeting  was  at  Tunbridge  Wells  in  181 5.  "I  took  leave  of  Playfair  with 
great  regret,"  Mary  wrote  in  her  diary  on  October  1  of  that  year.     "  He  is 


132  BERRY    PAPERS 

but  if  I  could  just  now  be  diverted,  I  should,  for  you 
put  me  in  mind  of  the  Persian  or  I  know  not  what 
tales — some  persons  always  looking  for  something,  or 
somebody  not  to  be  found.  You  are  looking  for  one 
that  does  not  admire  your  Play,  on  whom  you  mean  to 
pin  your  faith,  and  then,  I  suppose,  burn  your  books — 
not  exactly  the  case  with  authors  in  general,  nor  do  I 
believe,  if  ever  allowed  to  see  the  light,  will  your  play 
have  the  fate  of  plays  in  general. 

As  you  say  of  your  health,  I  must  say  of  my  knee, 
"nothing  either  good  or  bad."  When  I  keep  it  quiet, 
that  is,  scarcely  use  it,  I  find  it  better,  but  if  this  is  to 
continue,  'tis  to  me  a  melancholy  consideration,  but  I 
will  hope  as  long  as  I  can,  and  try  all  I  can — who  can 
do  more  ?  Mr.  Tayler  (for  you  love  details)  is  a  serious 
nuisance,  he  is  frowarder,  more  troublesome,  and  more 
vulgar  than  before,  and  always  here. — Tis  to  me  pro- 
voking that  when  my  mother  had  so  good  an  oppor- 
tunity as  the  present  melancholy  circumstances  afford, 
she  did  not  (making  all  the  necessary  use  of  him  as  to 
the  Lavendas  and  the  Patent)  so  settles  matters  as  that 
he  should  not  be  our  constant  companion. — They  are 
now,  have  been,  telling  me  it  is  past  time. 

Again  as  to  Cheltenham,1  be  assured  I  speak  from 
my  heart  and  only  give  the  advice  I  would  take.  God 
grant  this,  or  something  may  change  and  give  a  turn  to 
all  the  many  anxieties  that  oppress  you  or  at  least  suspend 
them.  Write  to  me,  as  you  say,  if  possible  often  tho' 
it  be  even  but  a  few  lines.  I  should  have  added  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Tayler  that  my  mother  said  she  had  told 
him  he  is  only  to  come  on  invitation  when  she  is  in 
town,  and  to  have  additional  salary  in  consequence  ;  but 
then  she  talks  of  staying  here  at  times  as  if  she  meant 

not  only  a  man  of  the  most  enlightened  mind,  but  one  of  the  kindest  dis- 
positions I  know.  I  flatter  myself  he  very  sincerely  reciprocates  the  friendship 
we  have  for  him." 

1  Agnes  Berry  was  at  Cheltenham  with  Mrs.  Lockhart. 


JOHN    PLAYFA1R,    F.R.S.,    PROFESSOR   OK    NATURAL    PHILOSOPHY 

IN    THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   EDINBURGH 

Front  an  engraving  by  R.  Cooper  after  H.  Racburn,  R.A. 

From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 


BERRYS  AT  LITTLE  STRAWBERRY  HILL     133 

great  part  of  the  winter.  I  never  press  her  on  these 
subjects.  Farewell,  and  Heaven  preserve  and  bless 
you. 

I  think  it  as  well  to  enclose  this  to  Lord  Orf[ord], 
having  a  word  to  say.  This  is  not  a  few  lines.  Once 
more  Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  198. 


SECTION  IV 

THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  (1795-1796) 

Mary  Berry  in  love  at  sixteen — Her  one  serious  love-affair — General  Charles 
O'Hara — His  early  career — He  first  meets  Mary  Berry — His  further 
career — At  Gibraltar  and  Toulon — Imprisoned  in  the>  Luxembourg — On 
his  return  proposes  to  Mary  Berry — She  accepts  him — The  engagement 
kept  a  secret  from  all  but  Mrs.  Damer — The  death  of  Field- Marshal  the 
Hon.  H.  S.  Conway — Correspondence,  mainly  concerning  O'Hara,  be- 
tween Mrs.  Damer  and  Mary  Berry — Agnes  Berry's  love-affair — The 
departure  of  O'Hara  to  take  up  the  Governorship  of  Gibraltar — a  pen- 
portrait  of  O'Hara  at  Gibraltar — Mary  Berry's  reasons  for  not  marrying 
him  before  his  departure — The  breaking  off  of  the  engagement — Mary 
Berry's  regrets  after  forty  years. 

MARY  BERRY,  in  her  "  Notes  of  Early  Life," 
mentions  that  in  1779,  when  she  was 
sixteen  years  old,  she  conceived  a  girlish 
passion  for  a  Mr.  Bowman,  which,  owing 
to  the  wise  intervention  of  her  relatives,  was  nipped 
in  the  bud.  The  one  serious  love-affair  of  her  life, 
however,  did  not  occur  until  1794,  when  she  was 
thirty-one.  Then  she  lost  her  heart  to  General  O'Hara. 
The  story  is  briefly  alluded  to  in  Mary  Berry's  Journals, 
where  there  is  a  passing  reference  to  a  packet  of  letters. 
It  is  a  selection  of  these  letters  that  is  now  for  the  first 
time  published. 

O'Hara,  who  was  born  about  1740,  was  an  illegitimate 
son  of  James  O'Hara,  second  Lord  Tyrawley.  Sent  at 
an  early  age  to  Westminster  School,  he  left  there  in 
1752,  when  he  was  appointed  to  a  cornetcy  in  the  3rd 

Dragoons.     Four  years    later  he  was   a  lieutenant  in 

134 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY   135 

the  Coldstream  Guards,  of  which  regiment  his  father 
was  colonel.  He  was  aide-de-camp  in  Germany  to  Lord 
Granby  after  the  battle  of  Minden  (1759),  and  went 
to  Portugal  as  quarter-master-general  of  the  troops 
under  Lord  Tyrawley  in  the  campaign  of  1762.  After 
holding  a  command  in  the  African  Corps  at  Goree,  he 
served  in  the  American  war  as  brigadier-general,  and 
in  this  position  distinguished  himself  and  earned  honour- 
able mention  in  despatches.  He  was  with  Cornwallis 
at  Yorktown,  and  was  kept  prisoner  until  February  1782, 
when  he  was  exchanged.  Before  his  release  he  had 
been  promoted  to  the  rank  of  major-general,  and  given 
the  colonelcy  of  the  22nd  Foot.  In  1783  he  returned 
to  England,  but  his  financial  affairs  were  in  so  lament- 
able a  condition  that  considerations  of  his  personal  free- 
dom made  it  advisable  for  him  in  the  following  year  to 
go  abroad  for  a  while.  In  Italy,  in  the  spring,  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  Berrys,1  and,  as  a  friend  of 
the  Conways  and  Horace  Walpole,  was  heartily  wel- 
comed by  them.  That  the  acquaintance  ripened  into 
an  intimacy  which  endured  through  the  absence  of 
the  soldier  at  Gibraltar  from  1787  to  1790,  is  indicated 
in  a  letter  written  in  October  of  the  latter  year  to  Mary 
Berry  by  Horace  Walpole  :  "Boyd2  is  made  Governor 
of  Gibraltar,  and  somebody,  I  know  not  whom,  is 
appointed  Lieutenant-Governor  in  the  place  of  your 
friend  O'Hara — I  know  not  how  or  why,  but  shall  be 


1  The  meeting  is  recorded  in  Mary  Berry's  Journals  (i.  118) : — 

"Friday,  21st  [May  1784]. — Arrived  at  Terni.  General  O'Hara  and 
Mr.  Conway  passed  us  upon  the  road  ;  spent  the  evening  with  us. 

"Saturday,  22nd. — The  General  and  Mr.  Conway  breakfasted  with  us 
between  four  and  five  o'clock,  and  set  out  with  us  immediately  afterwards  in 
two  caliches  to  see  the  cascade ;  it  is  five  miles  from  Terni." 

8  General  Sir  Robert  Boyd  (1 710-1794). 


136  BERRY    PAPERS 

sorry  if  he  is  mortified,  and  you  consequently."  *    Wal- 
pole  mentions  him  in  another  letter,  February  20,  1791  : 
"O'Hara  is  come  to  town,  and  you  will  love  him  better 
than  ever ;  he  persuaded  the  captain  of  the  ship,  whom 
you  will  love  for  being  persuaded,  to  stop  at  Lisbon 
that    he   might    see    Mrs.   Damer.      O'Hara    has   been 
shockingly  treated  [in  not  having  been  made  Lieutenant- 
Governor  of  Gibraltar]."2    Three  weeks  later  Walpole 
saw  O'Hara,  and  tells  Mary  Berry  of  the  meeting:  "I 
have  seen   O'Hara  with  his  face   as  ruddy  and  black 
and  his  teeth  as  white  as  ever,  and  as  fond  of  you  two, 
and  as  grieved  for  your  fall  as  anybody — but  I.     He 
has  got  a  better  regiment."  3    The  better  regiment  was 
the   74th    Highlanders,   which,    being    on   the    Indian 
establishment,  was   a   lucrative   post.    O'Hara   became 
Lieutenant-Governor  of  Gibraltar  in  1792 ;  and  in  Sep- 
tember of   the  following  year,  having   been  promoted 
lieutenant-general,  went  as  governor   to  Toulon.    "  If 
it  can  be  preserved,"  Walpole  wrote  to   Mary   Berry, 
"he   will   keep   it."     Toulon   had   surrendered   to   the 
English   at   the   end   of   August,  when   Admiral   Lord 
Hood  took  possession  of  it  in  the  name  of  Louis  XVIII ; 
but,  after  the  new  commandant  had  taken  up  his  duties, 
on  November  23,  it  was   attacked  and  recaptured  by 
Napoleon.     O'Hara  was  taken  prisoner,  and   kept   in 
the    Luxembourg    until   August    1795,    when    he    was 
exchanged   for    General    Rochambeau.      Shortly    after 
O'Hara's  return  to  England,  he  went  to  Cheltenham, 
where  the  Berrys  were  then  staying.    "  I  am  delighted 
that  you  have  got  O'Hara,"  Walpole  wrote  to  the  elder 

1  Mary  Berry,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  232. 
1  Walpole,  Letters  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  289. 
8  Ibid.,  ix.  303. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     137 

sister,  September  1,  1795.  "  How  he  must  feel  his  felicity 
in  being  at  liberty  to  rove  about  as  much  as  he  likes. 
Still  I  shall  not  admire  his  volatility  if  he  quits  you 
soon." s  When  Walpole  wrote,  Mary  Berry  and  O'Hara 
were  already  engaged,  but  the  engagement  was  for  the 
time  being  kept  a  secret  from  everybody  but  Mrs. 
Darner. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer'1  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Friday  Morning,  August  28,  1795. 

I  am  just  returned  from  sunning  myself  on  a  bench 
placed  under  the  orange  trees  near  the  greenhouse, 
where  I  was  reading  Terence's  Heauton-timoroumenost 
and  I  cannot  say  how  much  more  I  like  the  play  and 
how  much  more  interesting  it  seems  to  me  than  I 
thought  it  was,  and  yet  there  is  no  event  one  does 
not  see  and  foresee  from  the  very  first  scenes. 

The  wind  has  been  for  these  two  last  days  cold 
and  autumnal,  but,  as  I  said,  I  regret  not  this  summer. 
Yesterday  I  had  one  of  my  bad  headaches,  and  to-day 
it  has  a  feel  of  not  being  closed,  and  a  sensation  very 
uncomfortable  that  I  ied.r  you  will  understand  too  well. 

Mrs.  Hervey,  as  I  was  walking  a  little  way  with 
them  on  their  outset  this  morning,  chose  for  the  subject 
of  her  most  earnest  and  vehement  conversation,  a 
dissertation  on  Dorimant's  being,  which  she  had  heard 
he  was,  or  not  being,  as  she  believed,  married  to  the 
woman  to  whom  he  has  been  so  long  attached.  She 
was  determined   to   collect  the  opinion   of  every   one 

1  Mary  Berry,  Journals  and  Correspondence,  i.  475. 

*  Mrs.  Damer  was  at  this  time  in  mourning  for  her  father,  Field-Marshal 
the  Hon.  Henry  Seymour  Conway,  who  had  died  at  Park  Place  on  July  9. 
By  his  will  he  left  Park  Place  to  his  wife,  Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury.  Lady 
Aylesbury,  however,  at  the  end  of  the  year  disposed  of  the  property  to  Lord 
Malmesbury,  and  went  to  live  with  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Damer. 


138  BERRY    PAPERS 

present  on  this  question,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  I 
stopped  to  gather  a  flower  or  a  seed,  there  was  no 
escaping.  It  seems  this  woman  now  resides  near  where 
another  Lady  has  a  small  villa,  and  both  these  villas  are 
close  to  where  Mrs.  Hervey's  mother  lives,  and  that 
the  year  round  I  believe  or  near  it,  so  that  you  may 
guess  her  occupation  of  course  is  to  watch  this  trio. 
How  convenient  this  vicinity  !  My  mother,  who  dislikes 
the  Wild  Cat,  was  listening  with  great  attention  to  all 
this  and  lifting  up  her  shoulder.  Lady  Mol.  wrote 
me  word  the  other  day,  and  told  me,  she  said  "to 
give  me  pleasure,"  that  she  had  seen  Dorimant  who 
"enquired  very  particularly  after  me."  If  he  wished 
to  know  anything  of  me,  why  not  ask  myself !  On 
such  an  occasion  politeness  alone  would  have  justified 
it,  and  if  not  why  ask  anybody !  /  never  enquire  after 
him. 

Saturday,  half  past  4  o'clock. — I  was  waked  this  morn- 
ing at  5  o'clock  with  a  sad  colic  which  for  some  hours 
I  thought  I  could  manage  myself,  but  finding  the  pains 
increase,  and  being  just  physician  enough  to  know 
that  the  symptoms  were  such  as  ought  to  be  attended 
to  and  some  relief  procured,  I  sent  for  the  apothecary, 
Dr.  Harley,  of  whom  you  have  heard  me  say  that  (tho' 
little  partial  to  his  order)  I  have  a  good  opinion  of. 
He  came  and  both  talked  reason  and  gave  me  relief, 
so  that  after  suffering,  it  is  true,  a  good  deal,  I  have 
now  been  eating  a  bit  of  chicken  in  my  own  room,  and 
purpose  visiting  the  company  in  the  Library  when 
they  come  up  from  dinner.  You  are  sure  that  I  am 
telling  you  the  exact  truth,  and  that,  had  not  the  dis- 
order been  so  far  conquered  as  to  leave  no  cause  for 
anxiety,  I  must  at  this  time  have  been  much  worse, 
instead  of  so  very  much  better  as  to  be  sitting  at  my 
table  and  writing  in  comfort  to  you.  Had  I  not  taken 
this  in  time  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  I  should  have 
been  very  ill,  and  I  like  to  say  this,  as  it  is  really  and 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     139 

certainly  true,  to  call  your  attention  to  yourself  on 
any  such  occasions.  For  at  the  beginning  of  a  disorder, 
where  there  is  much  pain,  we  must  feel  a  degree  of 
uncertainty,  and  our  wandering  thoughts  fly  towards 
the  dearest  object  of  our  affections.  The  pain  there- 
fore that  I  thought  I  might  by  neglect  occasion  you> 
made  me  ten  times  more  careful  and  cautious  about 
myself  at  that  moment  than  I  should  otherwise  have 
been.  Remember  therefore  never  to  neglect  medical 
assistance  till  it  be  perhaps  too  late,  when,  as  I  know 
you  will,  you  think  of  me. — In  the  midst  of  my  suffering 
this  morning  they  brought  me  your  letter.  I  need  not 
say  if  the  comfort  was  felt  by  me,  it  really  seemed  to 
revive  me.  For  the  present  heaven  bless  you,  for  I 
think  they  will  be  coming  up,  and  think  of  my  luck, 
just  to  be  ill  to-day,  and  lose  so  much  of  dear  O'Hara. 
Farewell. 

Seven  o'clock They  are  all  gone  out  to  walk,  and  I 

am  not  sorry  to  have  a  quiet  moment  and  to  finish  my 
letter  this  evening  to  you,  which  I  mean  to  send  by 
O'Hara,  that  you  may  have  an  account  of  me  from 
myself  when  he  tells  you  that  I  have  not  been  well,  and 
he  talks  of  going  by  seven  to-morrow.  When  he  walked 
in  quite  unexpectedly  yesterday  evening  as  we  were 
sitting  at  the  tea-table,  my  mind  misgave  me  and  I  thought 
there  was  something  wrong,  for  so  I  must  feel  his  sudden 
departure — so  ill  recovered  too,  as  he  is,  tho'  I  think 
looking  a  degree  better  than  when  I  last  saw  him,  but  I 
see  that  since  he  is  to  be  exchanged  he  must  serve,  and 
were  the  ministers  to  put  him  by  in  neglect  I  could  bear 
it  much  less  than  his  going.  Gibraltar  and  his  now  being 
Governor  there  must  silence  all  impertinence  and  prove 
that  he  is  wanted  as  an  officer ;  but  could  I  have  had 
my  choice,  a  high  command  for  him  here  would  have 
been  preferred — indeed  in  all  this  I  am  occupied  almost 
disinterestedly  for  him.  I  should  see  little  of  him  here 
in  England,  according  to  anything  I  at  present  foresee, 


140  BERRY    PAPERS 

for  tho'  I  am  quite  sure  of  his  friendship,  I  am  neither 
gay  enough  nor  many  other  things  enough,  to  expect 
his  society — only  now  and  then  a  little  taste  for  fear  I 
should  forget  how  different  he  is  from  others. 

I  doubt  your  letter  to  Mrs.  Chom[eley]  will  not  be 
taken  as  it  deserves,  for  that  it  was  in  itself  all  it  ought 
to  be  when  revised  by  your  cooler  judgement,  I  do  not 
doubt,  but  I  can  not  trust  a  head  on  that  subject  capable 
of  all  you  tell  me,  at  which  I  am  the  less  now  surprised 
from  the  specimen  she  gave  me  one  night  at  my  house 
in  town,  almost  at  the  beginning  of  these  vagares.  I 
mentioned  her  conversation  to  you,  and  remarked 
actually  that  the  gentleman  seemed  much  the  first  object 
of  her  care  and  kindness.  It  is  indeed  too  hard,  and  I 
feel  quite  vexed  for  both  your  sakes  !  * 


The  Hon,  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Tuesday,  September  i,  1795. 

I  do  indeed  "  like  a  letter  sooner  than  I  expect,"  and 
your  assurance,  your  dependance  on  how  I  shall  and  do 
feel  either  a  mark  of  your  affection,  or  of  your  con- 
fidence is  one  of  those  steady  reliances  that  comfort  and 
support  me  in  quovis  malo. — I  could  have  wished  to 
have  known  (and  one  day  I  shall)  more  of  O'Hara's 
conversation.  Had  he  mentioned  me,  you  would  have 
told  me,  but  he  may  think  me  a  disadvantage  to  you, 
and  imagine  that  we  live  more  constantly  together  than 
alas !  we  do.  Or  he  may  suppose  (for  he  knows  me 
not)  that  I  endeavour  to  influence  you  against  marrying, 
thinking  it  probable  that  in  other  circumstances  I  might 
see  you  less,  and  ideas  of  liberty,  or  what  is  called 
liberty,  and  that,  because  I  have  remained  single  myself, 
I  think  it  a  fine  thing  so  to  do  in  general.     Even  this 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  201. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      141 

second  idea  would  give  me  much  pain,  so  contrary  to 
what  your  own  heart  tells*you,  and  to  the  anxious  wishes 
I  have  for  your  happiness,  which  would  never  appear  to 
me  too  dearly  bought  by  any  sacrifice  I  could  make. 
These  ideas  may  be  without  foundation,  but  you  like 
that  I  should  think  aloud  with  you.  I  am  doing  so 
now. 

Wednesday  morning. — I  mentioned  the  "simple 
story  "  to  you  in  a  foolish  way,  and  the  moment  I  saw 
the  words  written  it  struck  me  that  you  might  think 
they  implyed  more  than  was  intended.  It  was  for  want 
of  time,  or  place,  I  forget  which,  and  the  same  prevented 
my  then  explaining  further.  I  had  no  "  reason "  and 
meant  only  that  I  thought  it  worth  reading. — I,  however, 
like  it  better  than  you  seem  to  do,  but  I  must  say  that 
galloping  through  a  book,  particularly  a  novel,  "is  not 
the  way,  Milady  Teazle,"  to  seize  what  little  merits  it 
may  have,  as  one  is  always  affected  and  what  degree  of 
interest  it  may  be  called  forth  by  minute  description,  or 
some,  in  itself,  trivial  circumstance,  all  which  glanced 
over  in  a  hurry  totally  looses  its  effect  and  one  is  only 
open  to  its  faults. — I  say  this  because  I  have  galloped 
over  many  a  book  myself  and  thought  so  differently  of  it 
at  moments  of  more  leisure  and  attention. 

The  Grim  King  came  here  yesterday  but  was  obliged 
to  go  again  this  morning.  I  am  really  always  glad  to 
see  him,  his  conversation  is  so  very  far  superior  to  the 
common  nothing  one's  ears  are  daily  fatigued  with.  Yet 
I  have  many  days  when  a  dull  guest  would  perhaps  suit 
my  disposition  better.  Why  you  should  be  mortified  at 
not  deriving  much  amusement  from  the  mere  flow  of 
animal  spirits  in  beings  perfectly  uninteresting  to  you, 
I  know  not,  but  the  "effort  and  exertion"  that  on  such 
and  almost  all  occasions  you  will  make  to  conquer  some- 
thing you  fancy,  most  commonly,  not  exactly  what  it 
ought  to  be  in  your  own  dear  self,  counteracts  that  very 
intention  and  adds  tenfold  to  the  cause  that  disturbs  you. 


142  BERRY    PAPERS 

Indeed,  indeed,  you  think  too  much  and  too  deeply  on 
many  subjects  too  that  do  not  deserve  it.  Most  others, 
I  am  quite  aware,  think  too  little,  but  by  tormenting 
yourself  you  do  not  make  them  think  more.  I  am  con- 
tent that  you  should  be  as  different  as  you  are  from 
such,  and  so  you  would  be  were  it  in  your  power  to 
chuse,  tho'  we  both  know  how  much  in  one  sense  they 
have  the  best  of  the  bargain.  I  mean  the  unthinking, 
be  they  young,  or  be  they  old.  I  am  persuaded  more- 
over that  much  less  pains  to  "  conceal "  a  superiority 
that  can  not  be  concealed 'wholly  and  more  indifference  on 
your  side  on  such  subjects,  would  answer  better,  and 
you  would  often  without  design  actually  enter  in  some 
measure  into  the  gaiety  of  such  society  as  chance  may 
at  times  throw  you  into.  Come  into  that  society  allowing 
yourself  to  look  grave,  and  go  from  it  looking  and 
actually  feeling  gay.  I  do  not  say  this  would  always 
happen,  but  in  the  mean  time  you  would  save  yourself, 
and  when  for  a  change  you  would  seek  those  by  whom 
you  are  known  and  are  beloved,  you  do  know  where  to 
find  them.  I  hear  the  eternal  bell.  For  to-day,  farewell. 
Thursday  morning. — The  weather  continues  delight- 
ful, but  no  creature  ever  enjoyed  it  less  than  I  now 
can.  My  knee,  tho'  as  I  said  appearing  much  to  mend 
daily,  allows  me  nothing  deserving  the  name  of  a  walk, 
and  sitting  out  with  a  book  or  musing  and  looking  at 
the  green  trees,  which  I  could  do  for  hours  and  think 
delightful,  is  a  pleasure  almost  totally  spoiled  by  the 
odious  gnats,  and  various  insects  that  so  sting  and  maul 
my  vulnerable  skin,  that  if  I  sit  in  one  place  for  ten 
minutes,  I  come  home  in  a  perfect  fever.  I  wish  you 
may  enjoy  this  gleam  of  fine  weather,  free  at  least  from 
such  sort  of  minor  grievances.  You  have  alas  !  but  too 
many  more  serious  evils  to  contend  with  that  I  fear 
will  not  vanish  with  the  summer.  The  room  I  inhabit,  I 
assure  you,  is  large  enough  for  all  I  want  here,  and  not 
hitherto  cold.     I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the  Grim  King 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  143 

seems  to  have  quite  averted  all  his  royal  thoughts  from 
Louisa.  It  is  strange  to  see  anything  with  as  much 
sense  as  she  certainly  has,  so  completely  unamiable, 
for  I  think  she  ought  to  see  a  little  what  does  please  in 
others,  and  the  objects  answered  by  pleasing  seems  not 
to  escape  her  consideration.  Mrs.  Hervey,  I  am  per- 
suaded, views  herself  in  the  light  of  a  nymph,  avoiding, 
not  pursuing  admirers,  of  which,  Dorimants  of  some  order 
and  description,  I  quite  agree  with  you  in  thinking  she 
might  find  de  reste. 

Friday  morning. — I  shall  send  this  to-day,  for  as  our 
Postman  here  is  surly  and  stupid,  I  am  not  otherwise 
sure  you  would  get  it  before  Tuesday.  I  mean  to  go 
to  town  on  Monday  next  for  a  few  days,  as  I  find  that 
I  may  be  spared  from  hence  for  that  time.  You  will 
direct  to  me  accordingly.  In  my  way  back,  I  shall  call 
for  a  night  at  Strawberry.  I  had  a  few  lines  from 
him  to  invite  me,  which  of  course  confirms  my  inten- 
tion. Mrs.  Stanhope,  I  hear,  pour  passer  le  temps  has  got 
into  a  quarrel  with  somebody  at  Weymouth  about  the 
Rooms.  Further  I  know  not  and  have  burned  the  letter 
in  which  was  the  name  I  have  forgotten  of  the  anta- 
gonist. The  letter  was  from  Lord  Milton.  Our  friend  is 
a  true  femmelette,  one  I  believe  qui  perd  son  temps  sans 
penser.  To-day  it  is  dark,  heavy,  and  cloudy,  and  has 
rained.  I  think  much  of  the  weather  for  you,  tho'  not 
for  myself.  I  am  glad  to  begin  another  month  for  my 
part,  because  the  last  is  ended — the  Soho  House  does 
not  sell,  this  is  as  I  expected.  This  Place1  is  become 
to  me  intolerably  melancholy,  and  how  my  Mother  bears 
it,  and  with  the  view  and  seeming  impatience  to  have 
the  whole  of  parting  with  it  settled,  and  all  that  going 
on  under  her  eye,  for  there  has  been  a  second  applica- 
tion from  Mr.  Pocock,  rich  people  I  am  told,  I  am  at 

1  Park  Place,  where  Field- Marshal  the  Hon.  H.  S.  Conway  died,  was  left 
by  him  to  his  wife,  Lady  Aylesbury,  who  sold  it  at  the  end  of  the  year  to 
James  Harris,  first  Lord  Malmesbury. 


144  BERRY    PAPERS 

a  loss  to  understand.     Come  when  you  can,  and  I  know 
you  will,  to  comfort  and  support  me. 
Farewell  and  heaven  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  September  g,  1795. 

I  have  to  begin  a  letter  to  you  at  all  times,  but  when 
I  have  anything  praeter  solitum  at  all  upon  my  mind, 
as  it  seems,  tho'  I  do  not  at  the  moment  I  end  the  letter, 
to  carry  my  thoughts  one  degree  nearer  to  you,  I  find 
it  a  relief.  I  believe  I  need  have  no  anxiety,  for  you 
have  not  yet  failed  to  trace  the  meaning  of  my  heart 
thro'  every  confusion  of  words  or  expressions.  Yet  I 
am  not  quite  easy  lest  I  should  not  have  expressed 
myself  on  the  subject  of  O'Hara  as  you  expected.  I 
felt  agitated,  and  wrote  under  the  influence  of  painful 
sensations,  almost  at  the  moment  of  a  first  impression. 
Yet  you  would  not  wish  me  not  to  feel,  and  will  allow 
for  all  I  do  feel.  Why  then  should  I  be  uneasy  !  I  will 
say  to  myself,  since  you  alas !  are  not  by  me,  *  hoc 
missutn  face." 

I  am  really  glad  that  poor  dear  Ag[nes]  has  deter- 
mined to  treat  directly  and  not  indirectly  with  the  enemy  ; 
but  I  am  not  glad  (and  I  am  most  serious)  to  find  that 
the  weight  of  all  this  business,  as  on  so  many  other 
occasions,  is  falling  on  your  dear  shoulders,  and  you 
will  have  to  condole  and  console  for  the  sufferings  oc- 
casioned both  by  the  confidant  and  the  lover. 

Mrs.  Chom[eley]  could  not,  or  thought  she  could  not, 
come  to  me  yesterday,  and  to-day  her  note,  otherwise 
kind,  put  me  so  much  in  mind  of  what  you  said  on  the 
score  of  selfishness!  She  knew  I  suffered  from  my 
lameness,  and  wished  not  to  go  out  this  evening,  and  I 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  203. 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  145 

proposed  to  send  my  carriage  for  her  at  any  hour, 
adding  that  u  if  she  could  not  come  to  me,  as  I  really 
wished  to  see  her,  I  would  come  to  her."  Her  answer 
was,  "  I  cannot  bear  not  to  see  you  if  it  is  possible, 
but  situated  as  I  am  I  must  entreat  you  to  come  to 
me  this  evening."  She  then  adds,  "  If  I  am  decently 
well,  I  may  perhaps  drive  in  the  Park  at  6  o'clock." 
Why  she  could  not  drive  also  here,  in  that  case,  tell 
me  if  you  can.  But  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  have 
but  one  real  interest  on  earth,  and  never  will  have 
another.  Therefore,  though  I  may  be  vexed,  or  teazed, 
hurt,  or  affected,  the  impressions  pass,  and  as  to  Mrs. 
Chom[eley]  the  bourrasques  of  her  mind  (as  far  as  I 
only  may  be  indirectly  concerned)  will  be  more  likely 
to  incline  me  to  smile  than  to  excite  even  a  serious 
reflection. 

You  will  not,  I  am  convinced,  easily  suspect  me  of 
fancy  or  exaggeration,  but  I  must  tell  you  that  the 
unpleasant  sensations  I  attempted  to  describe  to  you 
were,  I  found  on  afterwards  talking  to  Hoy,  owing  to 
the  great  tendon  of  the  leg  being  affected  in  some 
degree  by  the  inflammation,  and  he  said  that,  had  that 
not  been  stopped  in  time  by  the  application  of  poultice 
and  the  care  I  had  taken,  but  a  sore  of  any  consequence 
allowed  to  form,  I  should  have  been  inevitably  and 
irretrievably  lame  for  life. 

Friday  morning  half-past  eight. — There  is  a  cool,  quiet 
composure  in  the  early  part  of  the  morning  that  has  to 
me  a  great  charm  which,  having  slept  better  for  these 
last  two  nights,  and  being  better,  allows  me  at  this 
moment  to  enjoy. — I  am  expecting  George  with  my 
breakfast,  and  in  the  mean  time  say  a  few  words  to  you, 
for  by  and  by  in  the  course  of  the  morning  I  have  several 
people  to  see,  and  many  things  to  do. — My  carriage 
was  ordered  the  evening  I  mentioned  to  go  to  Mrs. 
Chom[eley]  when  she  sent  me  word  that  she  was  too 
unwell  to  see  me.  ...  I  went  yesterday  and  dined  at 

K 


146  BERRY    PAPERS 

Mrs.  Hervey's,  where  I  met  the  Mount-Edgcumbes. — 
I  need  not  say,  therefore,  that  my  leg  continues  to 
mend. — Their  volubility  flowed  less,  and  they  were  more 
composed  than  I  ever  saw  them. — The  Lady  of  the  house 
had  it  all  to  herself. 

Saturday  morning. — The  perfect  satisfaction  your 
letter  yesterday  gave  me  on  the  subject  of  O'Hara  is  a 
sort  of  pleasure  that  I  should  not  wish  ever  to  lose  the 
power  of  feeling  even  by  security,  carried,  as  I  think  it 
would  be,  to  an  excess  beyond  human  hands,  and  there 
while  we  are  here  I  think  it  most  wise  for  us  rest. — I  do 
not  wonder  ihzt  your  "character  puzzles"  him,  put,  ac- 
cording to  his  custom,  "  in  eadem  trutina  "  with  that  of 
others. — Well  it  may  indeed, — tenderness  and  passion, 
virtue  and  resolution  so  blended  together  that  no 
chemistry  or  sophistication  can  separate  them,  must 
turn  the  scales  in  a  manner  little  to  be  understood  by  a 
Modern  Professor. 

I  have  at  last  seen  Mrs.  Chom.  I  found  her  alone 
yesterday  evening  and  passed  some  time  with  her  :  she 
seemed  to  have  recovered  her  spirits  and  looked  better 
than  I  at  all  expected,  had  been  to  drive  in  the  Park  and 
said  that  she  now  did  not  think  herself  so  near  her  time. 
— Nothing  could  be  more  cordial  or  unsuspicious  than 
her  manner  to  me  :  she  literally  never  ceased  talking  on 
the  dear  subject  for,  I  am  sure,  above  an  hour  and  a  half, 
till  we  were  interrupted  by  the  Wild  Cat — of  whom  she 
wanted  to  say  a  word  /  wanted  to  hear,  and  begged  me 
to  call  this  morning,  which  I  shall  do  in  my  way  to 
Strawberry.  She  said  less  of  you  than  the  others,  but 
is  not  angry,  tho'  I  think  not  pleased,  and  did  not  offer 
to  show  me  your  letter,  and  I  thought  it  best  not  to 
appear  too  inquisitive  then  ;  for  tho'  I  have  commonly 
found  her  say  most  things  to  me  and  nearly  as  they 
were,  yet  she  might  not  like  your  saying  as  much  to 
me  on  her  subject  as  she  might  do  herself.  She  told 
me  difficulties,  jealousies, — all. — I  know  not  quite  what 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     147 

to  make  of  the  Hero,  but  am  much  inclined  to  think 
he  likes  Ag[nes]  more  than  he  chuses  to  own  to  the 
confidant. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Saturday  Morning,  October  3,  1795. 

My  mind  has  continued  in  a  state  of  anxious  thought 
and  reflection  little  differing,  I  am  convinced,  from  your 
own. — I  was  impatient  to  hear  from  you,  but  not  at  all 
hoped  or  expected  to  find  by  your  letter  any  material 
change  since  we  parted.  There  was  a  time  when  my 
imagination  figured  to  itself  others  acting  and  speaking 
in  this  or  that  case  as  I  should  act  or  speak  myself,  but 
these  visionary  colours  have  long  faded  to  my  sight. — I 
wish  I  knew  O'Hfara]  better,  but  he  knows  me  so  little 
I  can  not  know  him  much — I  mean  intime.  That  he 
should  have  no  "serious  sentiment"  in  your  regard 
seems  to  me  impossible  after  the  attentions  and  care  he 
has  shown  for  you.  Men  are  not  so  disinterested  !  but 
how  far  the  qualities  of  his  heart,  which  I  have  ever 
thought  excellent,  may  be  obscured,  his  sensibility  and 
natural  good  sense  weakened  by  long  habits  and  inter- 
course with  a  base  world,  alas  !  I  know  not.  If  he  does 
not  know  how  to  value  your  worth,  as  well  as  to  admire 
your  beauty,  Heaven  forbid  !  You  should  be  united  by 
indissoluble  ties,  but  that  I  know  not  how  to  think,  and 
to  me  the  danger  rather  seems  that  you  should  not 
understand  each  other, — that  he,  thro'  fear  of  disappoint- 
ment, should  not  allow  to  himself  how  much  he  likes 
you,  and  that  you  should  not  let  him  see  how  much  yo 
like  him — ilia  omnia  rident,  I  wish  your  happiness. 

As  to  poor  Lord  Orf[ord]  I  perfectly  understand  and 
enter  into  all  your  ideas  respecting  him,  it  is  thus  that 
I  know  you  must  feel,  and  from  my  soul  I  shall  pity  him, 
should  all  his  Castles  fall  to  the  ground,  with  whatever 


148  BERRY    PAPERS 

degree  of  absurdity  and  want  of  sight  they  may  have 
been  constructed.     Farewell. 

I  was  interrupted,  and  have  been  finishing  my  sen- 
tence now  that  it  is  evening. — I  can  think  and,  of  course, 
to  you  only  write  on  one  subject,  and  that  from  circum- 
stances now  only  in  a  fruitless  state  of  repetition, — for 
writing  is  not  as  talking,  therefore  for  the  present, 
Heaven  bless  you. 

Saturday  evening. — Not  quite  certain  if  you  meant  I 
should  write  by  to-morrow  or  next  day's  post,  or  you 
receive  my  letter,  I  would  not  send  this  to-day,  as  it  was 
not  necessary  that  I  should  tell  you  you  were  welcome  to 
my  house :  you  know  if  I  have  a  pleasure  but  in  the 
world  I  had  one  of  being  any  thing  to  you,  and  certain 
it  is  that  I  like  to  think  you  in  my  room,  tho'  I  can 
not  myself  be  there  with  you. 

Would  I  could  know  something  of  you  ! — Taylor,  on 
my  Mother's  saying  at  dinner  that  she  wondered  she 
had  not  heard  from  0'H[ara],  said  that  he  had  met  him 
yesterday  as  he  came  from  London,  where  he  had  been 
riding  to  town.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  he  had 
been  with  you  and  possible  that  all  is  yet  where  it  was, 
and  that  you  had  no  opportunity  for  any  explanation, — 
but  when  you  are  yourself  in  town,  I  think  you  will  see 
him  in  some  greater  degree  of  liberty,  for  I  know  how 
doubt  and  uncertainty  in  whatever  but  moderately 
interests  and  affects  your  mind,  and  how  glad  you  are  at 
any  risk  to  shake  them  off.  'Tis,  I  think,  unfortunate  that 
he  is  likely  so  soon,  as  perhaps  he  may  be,  to  be  employed 
on  service  that  will  call  him  from  hence ;  a  little  more 
time  might  allow  sentiments  that  may  be  but  half  under- 
stood by  him  to  acquire  strength,  for  tho'  he  has  long 
known  you,  and  you  say  does  really  know  your  character, 
yet  from  circumstances  and  the  disposition  of  your 
affectionate  heart  towards  him,  all  takes  now  a  very 
different  cast  between  you,  yet  his  prejudices  and 
"crotchets"  tho'  losing  ground  perhaps  daily,  may  still 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     149 

form  a  barrier  and  prevent  his  coming  to  a  determina- 
tion that  would  constitute  all  his  own  future  happiness  in 
life. — If  this  is  otherwise  I  need  not  say  how  much  I 
wish  a  speedy  decision,  for  I  quite  dread  the  influence  of 
an  anxiety  I,  God  knows  !  feel  for  you,  and  with  you,  on 
your  mind. 

Monday  morning. — I  am  sure  you  know  that  painful 
state  of  existence  when  one  is  battling  and  battling  with 
anxiety,  that  one  may  not  be  quite  overcome,  tho'  to 
conquer  one  knows  it  quite  impossible. — To-morrow  I 
think  I  shall  hear  some  thing  from  you,  and  as  the  time 
draws  nearer,  my  anxiety  increases. — I  am  sure  you 
have  a  proof  of  forbearance  in  my  absence  from  you  at 
this  moment,  not  in  the  power  of  a  less  serious  or  less 
true  attachment  to  give. — If  I  loved  you  but  half  as  well, 
or  thought  of  you  but  half  as  much  as  I  do,  I  should  fly 
to  you. — Farewell,  and  may  heaven  preserve  and  bless 
you,1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Tuesday  Morning,  October  6,  1795. 

Your  account  is  so  much  what  I  expected  that  you 
need  not  have  thought  how  to  give  me  a  clear  idea  of  all 
that  has  passed,  but  tho'  it  has  not  surprized,  it  has  much 
affected  me.  Anxious,  Heaven  knows,  I  still  remain,  yet 
I  can  scarcely  entertain  a  doubt  in  what  manner  and 
with  what  determination  your  next  conversation  must 
end.  He  would  not  trust  himself  again  or  come  to  you 
to  confirm  scruples  and  combat  a  passion  he  sees  you  less 
than  disapprove.  For  those  scruples,  indeed,  and  ideal 
ridicules,  I  chiefly  read  doubts  of  the  strength  and 
constancy  of  your  sentiments  for  him  and  fears  of  a 
woman,  tho'  his  reason  and  judgement,  as  well  as  his 
heart,  whisper  to  him  how  very  superior  such  a  woman 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  207. 


150  BERRY    PAPERS 

is  to  those  with  whom  he  has  hitherto  been  connected, 
in  any  way.  You  know  my  confidence  in  Truth  and 
Virtue,  on  a  near  view  they  cannot  be  mistaken  by  a 
noble  mind  and  an  affectionate  heart.  Once  united, 
therefore,  your  character  must  inspire  him  with  perfect 
security  on  all  rational  subjects,  and  other  subjects  will 
find  their  excuse  in  a  heart  like  yours.  Your  kind 
affection  does  not  escape  me,  in  your  endeavouring,  and 
that  at  such  a  moment,  to  influence  O'Hfara]  in  my 
favour  alas  !  But  of  that  I  shall  say  nothing,  nothing  of 
myself.  I  have,  I  need  not  teWyou,  put  that  self  out  of 
the  question,  as  it  well  ought  to  be  where  the  future 
happiness  of  my  other  and  far  dearer  self  is  at  stake. 
Indeed,  I  have  as  yet  been  too  much  occupied  with 
anxiety  for  you  to  have  cast  more  than  a  few  vague 
thoughts  that  way.  You  know  that  wherever  fate 
throws  me,  you  will  there  have  a  being  who  is  devoted 
to  you,  and  a  heart  on  which  you  may  depend. 

That  your  sister  should  suspect  nothing  seems  to  me 
marvellous ;  for  your  Father  I  do  not  wonder.  Lord 
Orf[ord]  does  not  choose  to  see,  and  none,  they  say,  so 
blind. — But  all  this  blindness  I  think  impertinent. — Esto. — 
You  must,  my  only  friend,  think  for  yourself,  act  for 
yourself,  and,  as  others  do  (tho'  not  indeed  just  as  they 
do)  seek  your  own  comfort  and  happiness. — A  long,  long 
score  is  owing  you  of  both.  Lord  Orf[ord],  when  he  is 
told  this,  will  take  it  with  composure,  depend  on  it ;  and 
I  almost  hope  the  whole  of  that  will  be  less  painful  than 
you  imagine.  We  sometimes  make  mountains  to  our- 
selves which  on  nearer  view  lose  their  tremendous 
appearance,  and  we  smile  at  our  own  fears.  He  can 
not,  after  all,  but  wish  your  good  and  advantage,  and 
cannot  think  them  to  be  comprised  within  the  narrow 
limits  his  age,  infirmities  and  rooted  habits  have  pre- 
scribed to  himself,  or  that  for  his  life  (at  all  ages  an  un- 
certain period)  you  should  devote  the  best  years  to 
come  of  yours,  and  throw  by  better  hopes  and  better 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     151 

views,  if  such  should  offer.  Ag[nes],  you  are  well  aware, 
would  not  refuse  an  engagement  she  liked  for  herself, 
[and]  therefore  would  not  seriously  object  to  your  using 
the  same  liberty.  Indeed,  on  a  little  reflection, — it  may 
perhaps  require  that  with  her, — she  is  too  noble,  and 
loves  you  too  much  not  to  wish  you  were  it  but  a  chance 
of  happiness,  and  I  am  well  convinced  that  in  the  end 
she  would  on  this  occasion  have  a  much  better  chance 
for  her  own.  For  your  Father,  I  say  nothing,  'tis 
unnecessary.  He  could  but  be  gratified  by  such  an 
union.  Farewell,  I  expect  O'Hfara]  here — see  him 
coming  with  a  confidence  which  if  he  wants,  you  will 
inspire,  to  tell  me  all.  My  arms  will  be  open  to  receive 
him,  and  my  heart  not  less  open,  tho1  his  prejudices 
against  me  really  grieve  me  to  the  soul,  and  cast  a 
melancholy  cloud  over  distant  prospects  (I  speak  not  of 
the  present)  that  would  otherwise  have  much  of 
sunshine,  as  they  present  themselves  now  to  my  view. 

Heaven  preserve  you. — You  will  have  seen  by  my 
last  letter  that  I  do  not  think  of  coming  to  you  till 
you  send  for  me.  I  have  made  that  quite  easy  here, 
and  can  go,  or  stay,  as  you  wish,  without  objection. 
My  Mother  said  something  about  a  cow.  I  think  it 
was  that  I  should  ask  you  if  you  could  dispose  of  it 
to  some  friend,  as  she  could  not  think  of  its  being 
sold,  as  you  had  given  it  to  her,  and  did  not  like  to 
leave  it  here.  Once  more  farewell,  and  Heaven  pre- 
serve and  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  4  o'clock,  Friday,  October  9,  1795. 

O'Hfara]   has  this  moment  almost  left  me.     I  have 
only  taken  just  time  to  recover  a  little  after  one  of  his 

1  Add.  mss.  37727,  f.  209. 


152  BERRY    PAPERS 

interesting   and   tender   interviews,   and   am    set   down 
to  give  you  an  account  of  our  conversation.     At  first 
he  said  little,  and  seemed  rather  to  avoid  the  subject 
that  evidently  occupied  his  mind,  but  between  us  there 
was  too   much  sympathy  for   that  disposition   to  last. 
He   then,  mutatis  mutandis,  said  what  he  had  said  to 
you,  what  you   had   told  me,  and   often   in  the   same 
words.      He    has,    or    I    am    much    mistaken,    deter- 
mined upon  a  character  to  which  he  will  act  up,  thro' 
life,  little  consonant  with  his  own  feelings  and  senti- 
ments, and  to  this  is  he  now  sacrificing  all  his  own 
future  comfort  and  happiness,  and  is  avoiding,  if  not 
the  only  Being,  certainly  the  Being  most  calculated  to 
constitute  both,  for  I  am  persuaded  that  he  has  a  heart 
capable  of  knowing  and  valuing  you.     He  talked  much 
indeed  of  this  ridicule,  but  it  sometimes  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  not  merely  that,  but  a  combination  of  ideas 
which   tended,  it   is   true,  all  the   same  way,  that   led 
him  thus  on  whither  he  did  not  seem  clearly  to  know 
himself.     Many  things  he  said  were  full  of  contradictions 
but  to  the  end,  and  where  I  ought  to  have  begun,  he 
said  that  he  thinks  he  will  not  see  you,  is,  I  conclude, 
afraid  to  trust  himself. 

His  orders,  he  tells  me,  for  going,  are  hastened,  and 
that  he  sets  out  on  Tuesday  next,  I  suppose  in  the 
evening,  for  he  has  faithfully  promised  to  see  me  in 
the  morning  on  that  day.  To-morrow  he  goes,  I 
understand,  to  the  Prince,  and  is  not  to  be  in  town  till 
Monday  night.  My  Mother,  he  says,  he  must  give  up 
going  to.  I  wished  to  know  if  he  would  go  to  you, 
but  he  could  not  tell  me,  for,  poor  soul !  I  plainly 
saw  he  knew  not  himself.  He  said  in  the  course  of 
our  conversation  many  and  many  so  kind  things  that 
the  reflection  at  this  moment  has  filled  my  eyes  so 
full  of  tears  I  can  scarcely  see  what  I  am  writing. 
Strange  it  might  sound  to  others,  but  I  should  have 
pressed  him  with  still  greater  tenderness  to  my  bosom 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     153 

had  he  been  taking  from  me  at  this  moment  all  that 
is  most  dear  to  me  in  life. — Yet  as  it  is,  God  knows, 
I  felt  and,  I  believe,  expressed  enough. 

They  interrupted  me  with  my  dinner,  which  I  could 

not  touch,  and  now  I   hear  a   bellman,  and   will   not 

write  much  for  fear  I  should  be  too  late,  for  I  know 

you  will  be  anxious  to  hear  from  me.     I  totally  forgot 

your  locket  and  your  picture,  but  depend  on  it  I  will 

get  the  locket  by  Tuesday.     Forgive  me  I  know  you 

will.     Indeed,  my  head  is  quite  confused.     I  am  torn 

from   a    state  of   painful    anxiety   and    agitation   to    a 

state,  at  this  moment,  scarcely  less  painful. — Were  any 

one  to  see  me  at  this  moment  that  had  seen   me  in 

your  new  rooms  this  morning,  they  would  not  think 

it  the  same  being.     You  will,  I  need  not  ask  you,  come 

if  you  can  and  when  you  can  to  me.     God  bless  and 

preserve   you. — Tell  me   something  of  yourself,  for  if 

/  feel   as   I   do  and   all    I    do,  must    I   not   dread   the 

agitation   your   mind   has    been   put   into — and    to    no 

purpose  !     What  a  world  !  and  whither  is  one  to  turn  ! 

Once  more,  Heaven  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Grosvenor  Square,  Saturday  Morning,  10  o'clock, 
October  io,  1795. 

Your  Father  said,  I  recollect,  that  he  would  call  upon 
me  this  morning,  and  as  he  will  be,  I  suppose,  returning 
to  you,  I  think  that  I  may  send  a  few  lines  by  him,  for 
I  believe  that  my  account  yesterday  of  the  conversation 
was  not  near  so  "  clear "  as  yours  on  the  same  subject 
appeared  to  me. 

Did  I  give  you  an  idea  of  what  struck  me  in 
0'H[ara]'s  manner,  particularly  that  he  seemed  to  wish 
to  avoid  being  persuaded,  I  should  rather  say  convinced, 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  211. 


154  BERRY    PAPERS 

by  me  ?  That  is,  afraid  of  entering  into  arguments 
neither  his  reason  or  sound  judgement,  and  still  less 
his  heart,  could  answer,  yet  feeling  his  prejudices, 
fancies,  or  be  they  what  they  may,  for  I  am  not  equal 
to  classing  them,  knowing  not  clearly  their  species,  were 
dragging  him  the  other  way,  and  opposing  a  force  he  did 
not  mean  to  resist.  I  think  it  was  so,  and  this  want  of 
disposition  in  him  to  hear  me  might  make  me  say  less 
than  I  should  have  said  had  it  been  otherwise ;  yet  when 
I  ask  myself  I  feel  certain  that  I  said  all  I  could  have  said, 
and  what  I  should  have  said,  had  I  myself  been  to  go  with 
you,  if  you  went,  to  Gibraltar ;  and  I  declare  that  what 
ever  the  relief  I  may  feel  from  the  terrible  sensation  of 
losing  you  thus  suddenly,  with  all  the  ideas  of  absence, 
distance,  and  real  danger  attending  a  sea  voyage  at  this 
moment,  a  sensation  of  melancholy  is  strongly  impressed 
on  my  mind  from  a  regret  at  seeing  what  appeared  to 
me  a  chance  of  future  good  and  happiness  to  you  that 
it  seemed  to  me  must  attend  so  reasonable  a  union,  in 
short  to  my  poor  capacity  a  marriage  founded  on  reason 
alone,  if  there  ever  was  such  a  one — all  this  to  pass  by 
you  as  it  were,  I  know  not  why  !  Yet  mistake  me  not ; 
clear,  indeed,  I  am  that  tho'  certainly  in  your  power  to 
do  so,  it  would  in  you  be  unwise  to  make  use  of  the 
influence  of  passion  and  captivation  over  him,  because 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  since  these  absurd  scruples 
can  exist  in  a  breast  to  which,  I  still  maintain  it,  they 
are  not  natural,  they  might  return  and  cause  the  misery 
of  both,  for  your  true  and  noble  spirit  would  start  even 
from  a  husband  who  could  think  seriously  that  for  any 
reason  he  had  done  a  foolish  thing  in  marrying  you. 

I  have  been  writing  rather  in  a  hurry,  thinking  that 
your  Father  might  call  early.  He  is,  however,  not  yet 
come,  and  I  continue  to  fill  my  paper.  I  have  been 
telling  you  of  myself  in  talking  of  you,  therefore  have 
little  to  say  but  that  I  slept  really  well  and  am  not  ill, 
tho'  low  and  languid  in  spirit. — I   saw  not  a  creature 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY     155 

yesterday  but  O'Hara,  having  determined  to  be  perdue 
at  least  that  one  day.  I  shall,  if  she  will  see  me,  go  to 
Mrs.  Chom[eley]  to-day,  and  enquire  after  those  I  must 
enquire  after,  for  I  have  little  disposition,  as  you  will 
guess,  to  see  many,  but  going  or  being  out  of  town  is 
what  I  find  most  people  seem  to  have  forgotten ;  there 
they  are  ready  for  one  at  all  times. — I  long  to  know 
something  of  you,  and  still  feel  uncertain  and  anxious, 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  O'Hara  cannot  go  thus,  that  he 
will  see  you  again  and,  with  the  waverings  of  his  mind, 
which  are  evident,  he  may  wish  to  resume  hopes,  which, 
if  he  can  feel  their  value,  it  is  past  me  to  think  he  can 
voluntarily  abandon.  God  in  Heaven  preserve  and 
bless  you.1 


The  Ron.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Grosvenor  Square,  Thursday  Evening,  October  15,  1795. 

0'H[ara]  obeyed  you  and  the  great  coat  was  laid 
aside.  He  spoke  to  me  of  you  as  if  himself  with  openness 
and  confidence.  All  that  he  said  was  expressive  of 
passion,  softened  by  the  tenderest  care  and  concern  for 
you,  which  the  cool  voice  of  reason  and  good  sense 
made  but  the  more  touching  to  me.  I  think  by  all  he 
has  said,  and  by  his  whole  conduct,  that  I  can  plainly 
perceive  he  yet  scarcely  will  allow  himself  to  trust 
entirely  to  what  his  heart  tells  him  he  need  not  doubt, 
and  to  what,  if  he  knew  your  character  as  I  do,  his 
reason  would  tell  him  he  could  not  doubt ;  but  un- 
accustomed as  he  must  be  to  sentiment,  tenderness 
and  affection  so  expressed,  so  blended  with  truth, 
candour  and  sincerity,  I  cannot  wonder  if  all  should 
seem  to  him  still  like  a  flattering  dream  he  dares 
not  trust. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  213. 


156  BERRY    PAPERS 

I  cannot  express  how  much  the  recollection  of  what 
he  said  to  me  speaking  of  us  both  (I  mean  when  you 
were  here)  affects  me.  He  surprized  and  touched  me, 
for  I  expected  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  your  manner  of 
receiving  what  he  said !  my  dearest,  only  friend ! 
surprize  me  it  could  not,  but  you  know  how  my  heart 
feels  every  expression  of  kindness.  I  can  only  say  that 
every  day  convinces  me  more  of  what  I  have  ever 
thought,  that  a  heart  softened  by  tenderness  and  affec- 
tion renders  the  mind  but  the  more  capable  of  every 
exertion.  The  few  words  I  had  to  say  to  you  were  from 
Ag[nes],  who  begged  that  I  would  tell  you  she  hoped  if 
at  times  you  saw  her  low,  you  would  excuse  and  forgive 
her,  that  she  was  pleased  for  your  sake  at  what  she 
really  thought  tended  to  your  happiness,  but  that  she 
must  feel  her  loss,  and  that,  she  said,  she  confessed 
selfishly.  These  were  nearly  her  words,  poor  thing.  I 
could  not  say  to  her  in  answer  (tho'  Heaven  knows  if  I 
can  pity  her  ! )  what  I  conjure  you  to  bear  it  mind,  that 
is,  that  with  no  separation  in  view,  she  was  neither 
satisfied,  content  nor  happy,  merely  from  being  with 
you,  and  that  all  grievances  occasioned  by  want  of 
sympathy  increase  by  long  habit,  just  as  blessings 
increase  where  that  sympathy  exists. — Good  night.  My 
house,  and  every  spot  I  have  just  seen  you  in,  look 
melancholy,  but  I  am  so  little  accustomed  to  real  happi- 
ness that  I  am  most  grateful  even  for  moments  passed. 
I  feel  that  I  am  a  poor,  worn-out  creature,  and  have 
not  you  to  support  me. — Once  more,  good  night. — 
Would  I  knew  something  of  you,  if  you  are  ill,  or  how 
received ! 

Friday  evening. — I  determined  to  send  my  letter  by 
0'H[ara]  and  not  by  the  Post.  This  was  what  you  first 
proposed,  and  gives  me  an  opportunity  of  sending  you 
a  later  word.  I  slept  composedly,  and  only  wish  I  could 
think  you  had  done  the  same,  I  mean  that  the  Prince, 
or  his  near  approach,  may  have  allowed  you.     I  passed 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  157 

the  greatest  part  of  this  morning  in  Soho  Square,  after 
first  sending  a  note  to  your  dear  General  to  ask  if  I 
had  a  chance  of  seeing  him  this  evening,  that  if  I  had,  I 
might  not  be  out. — He  wrote  in  answer,  "Ma  tres  chkre 
amie,"  and  that  he  would  come  at  ten. — I  meant  to  have 
gone  to  Mrs.  Chomeley  the  early  part  of  the  evening, 
but  just  as  I  had  finished  my  solitary  repast  they  brought 
me  a  message  from  the  Duke  of  Richmond  to  ask  at 
what  time  he  could  see  me  this  evening.  This  determined 
me  not  to  go  out  at  all,  and  I  sent  him  word  that  he 
would  find  me  at  home  the  whole  evening.  I  am  really 
on  many  accounts  glad  he  is  come.  I  had  just  indulged 
myself  in  not  writing  to  him  to-day,  finding  that  I  had 
only  time  for  a  hurried  letter  and  really  not  finding  how 
I  could  express  and  explain  several  things  I  had  to  say. 
Half  an  hour's  conversation  will  settle  all. — What  dread- 
ful wind  and  violent  weather,  but  as  no  fleet  will  sail 
while  it  lasts,  'tis  well  that  the  Equinox  should  exhaust 
its  fury,  for  it  always,  I  have  observed,  will  have  it  out  a 
little  sooner  or  a  little  later  in  the  season.  The  charms 
of  Ag[nes]'s  morning  walks  will,  I  think,  not  much 
benefit  her  at  this  rate. 

Saturday,  \  before  nine. — I  would  not  seal  my  letter, 
intending  to  add  a  few  more  lines  last  night,  but  it  was 
so  late  when  O'Hfara]  left  me,  that  I  would  not  trust 
myself  to  begin  writing  to  you.  We  had  much  serious 
conversation  in  the  same  style  and  on  the  same  subject, 
none  of  which  ever  my  head  will  let  me  forget,  I  am 
sure.  But  now  I  must  send  this,  for  he  seemed  to 
intend  going  early. — I  expect  to  hear  from  my  Mother 
to-day  by  the  Post,  and  what  she  does  about  Goodwood 
and  London,  &c.  That  will  determine  me,  but  I  think 
it  certain  if  she  comes  to  town,  or  goes  to  Good[wood], 
that  it  will  not  be  till  after  Wednesday.  I  will  write  to 
you  by  Monday  or  Tuesday's  Post. — If  you  would  have 
me  write  by  Monday's  (I  forgot  I  could  not  and  was 
going  to  say  by  to-morrow's),  let  me  know  by  O'Hfara], 


158  BERRY    PAPERS 

who  says  that  he  will  call  this  evening.  I  go  on  well,  and 
dans  les  fermes,  you  see,  and  shall,  I  suppose,  soon  find 
out  that  he  is  "  a  very  extraordinary  man."  Heaven  pre- 
serve and  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Grosvenor  Square,  Sunday  Morning,  October  i8,  1795. 

I  could  only  trust  myself  to  glance  over  your  letter 
when  0'H[ara]  gave  it  me  yesterday  evening,  and  re- 
served the  pleasure  of  reading  it  in  my  own  way  to 
when  I  was  alone. — Yet  as  he  said,  and  with  such  in- 
finite good  humour,  **  What  can  you  two  write  about  in 
this  manner "  !  I  thought  it  a  treachery  ignoscenda  if 
I  just  gave  him  an  idea  of  what  we  could  write  on  one 
subject,  and  read  him  some  of  the  lines  in  your  letter 
that  related  to  himself.  He  put  up  his  hand  to  his  dark 
eyes  after  listening  to  me  and,  turning  away  his  head, 
took  hold  of  my  hand,  which  he  pressed  with  that 
tenderness  of  expression  that  goes  directly  to  my  heart 
and  seems  to  me  from  such  a  being  a  more  binding 
assurance  of  protection  and  friendship  than  a  thousand 
promises  on  parchments  from  another.  Our  conversa- 
tion was  of  the  same  cast  in  general  as  the  last,  but  he 
talked  of  future  schemes  and  plans  more  in  detail,  and 
in  a  manner  so  kind  and  flattering  to  me  that  I  felt 
quite  overcome.  What  can  prove  his  attachment  to  you 
so  strongly  as  his  entering  into  ideas  because  they  are 
yours  with  so  much  warmth  and  interest,  that  are  new, 
though  not  indeed  foreign,  to  his  heart !  For  so  it  is, 
my  dearest  friend,  non  me  latet,  but  he  thus  takes  the 
surest  of  all  sure  ways  to  bind  me  for  ever  to  him  by 
ties  even  stronger  than  my  own  gratitude,  and  he  shall 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  215. 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY   159 

not  repent  the  opinion  you  have  inspired  him  with 
of  me. 

Do  not,  I  beg,  forget  the  details  you  promise  me, 
tho'  our  meeting  is  distant,  or  what  I  at  this  moment 
think  distant,  because  I  had  a  chance  of  seeing  you 
sooner,  for  whatever  my  future  fate,  such  details  and 
recollections  will  ever  please,  affect,  and  interest  me.  I 
am  still  ready,  as  you  will  have  seen  by  my  note  of  this 
morning  which  I  hope  L[or]d  Orf[ord]'s  servants  will 
have  carried  you,  to  defer  going  to  Goodwood  if  you 
would  have  me ;  but  I  do  not  in  one  sense  regret  the 
plan  of  your  going  to  P[ark]  Place  and  his  meeting  you 
there  not  taking  place,  for,  circumstanced  as  he  is,  he 
could  not  have  stayed  above  a  day  or  so,  and  I  think 
you  would  not,  without  much  particularity,  have  talked 
to  him  in  comfort,  and  had  he  been,  which  is  possible, 
called  suddenly  away,  Park  Place  and  whatever  of 
curious,  impertinent  eyes  might  have  been  there,  would 
have  seen  more  than  we  just  now  wish  them — in  short, 
it  would  not  have  been  comfortable  to  you. 

I  cannot  be  sorry  that  L[or]d  Orf[ord]  shows  his 
most  unfair  crossness  to  you  now,  because  I  know  that 
it  is  there  and  exists  in  his  breast,  and  if  you,  by  the 
most  unlooked  for  attentions,  have  not  been  able  to 
extirpate  the  vile  weed,  it  must  grow  stronger,  and  that, 
you  may  depend  on  it,  it  will,  and  increase  by  indulg- 
ence ;  were  you  to  sacrifice  all  your  best  days  to  come 
and  your  whole  existence  to  him,  there  would  be  no 
end  to  his  encroaching  fancies.  This  may  sound  harsh, 
but  it  is  plain  truth,  and  you,  my  own  soul,  have 
suffered  enough  in  this  vile  world  ;  try  at  least  if  you 
cannot  recover  a  part  of  the  heavy  debt  that  is  owing 
you.  I  do  not,  from  your  account,  feel  uneasy  at  his 
indisposition,  as  I  rather  conclude  it  over,  and  I  am 
sure  when  I  think  of  what  his  dinners  are,  and  how  he 
eats  them,  I  wonder  he  and  his  cat  are  not  sick  together 
every  day  for  their  dessert. 


160  BERRY    PAPERS 

Think  seriously,  let  me  entreat  you,  of  coming  to 
town,  I  mean  to  stay,  as  soon  as  you  possibly  can 
contrive  it.  I  am  quite  sure  that  it  will  be  better  for 
all  of  you.  Ag[nes]  will  be  occupied  with  seeing  or 
not  seeing  her  Parson,  and  hearing  now  and  then  a 
tune  upon  the  second  fiddle  by  Mrs.  Chom[eley],  all 
which,  depend  on  it,  let  it  end  how  it  may,  will  be 
better  for  you  and  better  for  her  than  the  "woods 
and  wilds "  of  Cliveden,  where,  by  the  bye  (as  Mrs 
Chom[eley]  told  me  yesterday  evening),  she  intends  to 
pass  her  future  days  in  solitude.  That  she  should 
allow  herself  to  talk  such  nonsense !  !  ! — I  told  Mrs. 
Chom[eley]  whenever  she  made  these  sort  of  speeches, 
to  agree  with  her,  and  say  she  was  quite  in  the  right. 
Mrs.  Chom[eley]  laughed  and  seemed  quite  diverted, 
yet  ten  to  one  she  will  tell  her  again  what  I  said.  I 
protest  it  is  what  I  should  say  to  her  myself,  for  I  know 
not  what  others  may  think,  but  to  me  a  little  exertion 
when  things  must  be  and  one  knows  are  felt,  is  ten 
times  more  affecting  than  despondency.  Mrs.  Chom[eley] 
I  am  sure,  herself  provoked  me.  We  were  alone  and 
I  protest  I  thought  that  she  had  forgotten  poor  you, 
for  tho'  I  had  not  seen  her  since  the  first,  she  rode  away 
upon  her  hobby-horse  and  I  thought  never  would  have 
stopped.  She  was  "low,  had  seen  Mr.  W.,  poor  young 
man ! "  and  in  short  told  me  the  whole  story  in  detail 
before  she  mentioned  your  name.  But  with  all  that, 
I  take  her  as  she  is,  and  like  her,  and  am  glad  that  it 
is  decided  she  stays  the  winter  here. 

Sunday  evening. — As  you  will  perceive,  I  write  to 
you  by  O'Hfara],  tho'  in  fact  I  sent  you  yesterday 
all  the  intelligence  of  myself,  and  all  I  knew,  but  I 
rather  think  you  will  still  expect  a  letter  by  him.  I 
shall  finish  and  seal  this  now,  for  he  will  probably  go 
to  you  early,  and  I  am  not  to  see  him  this  evening, 
but  am  going  to  two  or  three  places,  and  shall  have 
nothing,  therefore,  to  tell   you  more.    You  will  prob- 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      161 

ably  come  to  town  for  a  night  this  week.  Let  it  be 
to  my  house,  if  you  can, — it  pleases  me. — Heaven 
bless  you.1 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Monday  Night,  12  o'clock,  October  19,  1795. 

O'Hfara]  is  this  moment  gone,  and  I  set  out  early 
to-morrow,  therefore  can  only  write  a  line,  but  a  line  1 
will  always  write  when  you  expect  to  hear  from  me. 
When  I  in  anything,  even  the  most  trifleing,  disappoint 
you — pity  me.  As  you  had  particularly  said  you  would 
write  by  the  penny  post  I  grew  fidgetty,  for  O'Hara 
came  late,  having  first  gone  to  the  Admiralty,  and  the 
result  is  that  he  is  going,  and  I  probably  have  taken 
my  leave  of  him  this  night.  I  do  assure  you  that  I 
feel  I  have  taken  my  leave  of  him  at  my  very  heart. 
I  think  you  will  come  to-morrow,  yet  I  go,  as  you  do 
not  seem  to  wish  (otherwise  than  Heaven  forbid  you 
should  not)  that  I  should  stay,  and  now  I  am  expected. 
Yet  I  could  stay,  but  as  you  say  it  is  better  that  I 
should  "go  and  come,"  and  if  I  go  to-morrow  I  shall 
return  a  day  sooner,  and  when  perhaps  you  may  want 
me  more  than  to-morrow.  You  tell  me  nothing  of 
yourself,  of  the  Prince,  nor  if  you  are  ill.  O'Hfara] 
has  been,  however,  talking  of  you  in  a  manner  that 
satisfies  my  heart — need  I  say  more  ?  I  feel  tired, 
low  and  oppressed,  yet  I  could  write  on  to  you 
with  pleasure,  but  I  will  go  to  bed, — 'tis  better  I 
should,  and  so  Heaven  bless  you. 

I  mean  to  be  in  town  on  Tuesday  (to-morrow 
sevennight).  If  you  should  wish  that  I  should  come 
instead  to  [Little]  Strawberry  [Hill]  that  day,  only  write 
me  word  so  and  I  will.     I  must  come  to  town,  however, 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  217- 


162  BERRY    PAPERS 

about  that  time,  as  my  Mother  is  to  come  there  for  a 
day  or  two  about  her  house,  &C.1  Write  to  me  at 
Goodwood,  soon,  if  you  can,  for  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
something  of  you  again.  Once  more,  Heaven  preserve 
and  bless  you. 

Tuesday  morning,  \  "before  8. — Finding  I  have  one 
moment,  as  I  waked  early,  I  opened  my  letter  to  beg 
of  you  to  say,  as  you  know  /  feel,  how  sensible  I  am 
of  all  O'Hfara]  has  said  to  me  of  the  kind,  flattering 
and  consoling  manner  in  which  he  has  treated  me, 
and  that  I  am  not  ungrateful. 

When  I  said  I  was  fidgetty  about  not  hearing  from 
you  yesterday,  you  won't  mistake  me,  I  doubted  not 
but  that  you  had  sent  your  letter  by  CH[ara],  but 
thought  from  thence  that  you  might  have  been  suffer- 
ing as  I  know  you  do  with  the  Prince,  and  wished, 
therefore,  to  give  me  the  last  intelligence  of  yourself. 
Now  Heaven  once  more  preserve  and  bless  you.2 


General  O'Hara  to  Mary  Berry 

Tuesday  Morning  [October  20],  1795. 

The  arrangements  for  the  protection  of  the  Medi- 
terranean ships  are  made  and  they  are  under  orders 
to  sail  immediately.  Come  to  town  this  evening,  that 
I  may  see  and  press  you  to  my  breast  as  often  as 
possible  before  I  leave  you.  Some  excuse  for  this 
sudden  resolution  of  coming  to  London  must  be  made  ; 
suppose  you  say  Mrs.  Damer  wishes  to  see  you  before 
she  goes  to  Goodwood.  {She  went  this  morning.)  Her 
house  is  ready,  but  I  think  you  would  be  better,  from 
being  less  observed,  at  home. 

1  Lady  Aylesbury  was  beginning  to  make  arrangements  for  giving  up 
Park  Place. 

*  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  219. 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY   163 

I  will  be  with  you  between  8  and  9  this  evening. 
Write  me  word  by  my  servant  at  what  hour  you  will 
be  in  Audley  Street. — God  bless  you.  C.  O'H.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Goodwood,  Thursday,  October  22,  1795. 

I  feel  your  having  been  so  ill  this  time  doubly,  for  I 
know  that  I  am  the  cause  of  much  increased  suffering, 
and  of  your  coming  to  town,  unnecessarily,  too,  as  it 
has  proved,  at  a  time  when  I  am  quite  certain  from 
attentive  observation  that  you  ought  always  to  remain 
quiet  and  be  as  little  disturbed  in  any  way  as  possible. — 
I  believe  I  first  advised,  but  I  am  sure  I  much  encour- 
aged 0'H[ara]  to  send  for  you  on  Tuesday,  tho'  I  was 
aware  of  the  difficulties  this  would  occasion  you.  And 
why  did  I  do  this  ?  Because  I  know  you,  know  by 
myself  what  an  hour,  a  moment  is,  when  I  part  with 
what  is  dear  to  me  !  A  thought,  too,  in  which  I  am 
persuaded  I  was  wrong,  came  across  me  that  to  save 
you  the  pain  of  parting,  he  might  possibly  torture 
himself  and  go  without  seeing  you  again, — and  then  my 
reason  has  shown  me  that  every  conversation  you  have 
had  together  of  late  has  tended  to  confirm  and  consoli- 
date those  sentiments  from  which  I  derive  my  hopes  of 
your  future  comfort  and  happiness ;  and  even  now, 
tho'  I  see  and  know  the  awkwardness  and  teazing  un- 
certainty of  this  staying  from  day  to  day,  I  have  not 
hitherto  been  able  to  regret  it, — much  indeed,  on  the 
contrary,  I  have  perceived  with  how  much  satisfaction 
I  need  not  attempt  to  express  to  you  !  in  the  conversa- 
tions I  have  had  with  him,  the  increase  of  his  confidence 
in  your  affection  and  in  your  sentiments  for  him  every 
time  he  has  seen  you,  as  well  as  the  encrease  of  that 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  224. 


164  BERRY    PAPERS 

attachment  which,  once  rooted  in  a  breast  like  his,  can  I 
think  never  fail  you.  I  can  not  think  you  right  or  prudent 
in  having  gone  without  obligation  to  Lady  Eng[lefield] 
to  go  through  a  dinner  you  could  not  go  thro'.  How- 
ever good  might  otherwise  be  your  reasons  for  not  going 
to  my  rooms,  your  being  seized  with  the  Prince  on  the  road 
ought  to  have  immediately  determined  [you]  to  go  thither, 
as  they  are  warmer  and  more  certainly  aired  than  yours 
and  no  smell  of  paint,  at  least  you  might  have  gone 
directly  home,  but  then  they  did  not  expect  you.  You 
will  quite  vex  and  hurt  me  if  you  do  not  take  more  care 
of  yourself,  non  in  promissa.  It  is  hard  too  while  you 
are  every  day  adding,  as  it  seems  to  me,  to  the  affection 
and  attachment  that  I  feel  for  you,  and  since  you  are  the 
only  real  interest  and  comfort  I  have,  or  ever  can  have 
in  this  wide  world. 

From  hence  1  have  nothing  good  to  tell  you.  I 
found  my  poor  sister,1  as  I  expected,  looking  miserably 
emaciated  and  ill.  She  was  sitting  in  the  Library  (a 
room  below)  and  does  walk  about,  it  seems,  with  toler- 
able ease,  but  she  eats  little,  sleeps  ill  and  never  scarcely 
without  Laudanum  :  added  to  this,  which  may  be  the 
most  alarming  of  all,  she  has  a  dreadful  cough,  which 
comes  by  fits  and  so  exhausts  her  that  she  is  not  able 
to  speak  often  for  a  considerable  time.  In  short  she  is 
in  my  opinion  so  very  ill  that  I  think  it  doubtful  if  I 
shall  be  able  to  come  away  at  the  time  I  propose,  for  if 
her  Physician,  Hunter,2  who  is  to  come  to-day,  thinks  her 
in  immediate  danger,  I  can  not  leave  her  (and  I  know 
you  would  not  have  me)  tho'  Heaven  knows  !  I  am  of 
little  comfort  to  her,  she  scarcely  sees  me,  or  any  one 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  really  seems  to  me  to  have 
lost  all  satisfaction  whatever  in  seeing  any  one,  even 
me  (you  will  smile),  but  it  is  really  melancholy  beyond 

1  The  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

2  Dr.  John  Hunter,  the  physician  whose  house,  Earl's  Court,  the  Duke 
bought  later. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF   MARY    BERRY     165 

measure.  She  is  composed  and  resigned,  unless  contra- 
dicted, and  then  ruffled  by  the  merest  trifle  in  the 
extreme.  If  she  talks  of  herself  it  is  a  long  string  of 
complaints  and  affects,  but  nothing  as  it  were  of  how 
she  feels  them,  or  what  she  really  thinks  of  herself. 

The  Duke  of  R[ichmon]d  is,  I  see,  very  uneasy,  but 
still  goes  on  in  the  same  routine,  has  the  same  confi- 
dence in  Hunter,  who  comes  when  he  is  sent  for  only, 
from  thirty  miles'  distance,  and  I  much  fear,  tho'  he 
may  be  a  very  good  physician,  that  he  does  not  do  all 
that  might  be  done,  or  understand  her  case.  I  hope  I 
am  mistaken,  and  I  must  allow  that  [it]  is  hard  upon 
the  Duke  of  Richmond,  for  if  she  said  but  a  word,  any 
Physician  would  be  sent  for  the  next  moment,  were  it 
from  Pekin  ;  but  on  the  contrary  she  is  irritable  in  the 
greatest  degree  and  expresses  quite  a  horror  of  a  new 
face  in  that  way,  so  that  what  to  do  or  to  advise  is  most 
difficult. 

The  Duke  of  Richmond  this  moment  tells  me  that  a 
large  fleet  is  seen  sailing  out  from  Spit  Head,  and  the 
wind  has  been,  I  know,  at  every  point  of  the  compass, 
changing  continually,  for  these  two  days.  I  see  a  vane 
from  my  very  window  as  I  write  at  my  table,  to  which 
my  eyes,  Heaven  knows  !  are  now  often  directed,  and 
I  catch  myself  twenty  times  a  day  talking  of  the  wind, 
nobody  can  know  why,  and  I  see  them  stare,  and  then 
check  myself.  I  am  going  up  the  hill  where  I  can  see 
this  fleet  and  where  there  are  glasses  and  telescopes. 

Farewell. — I  will  still  hope  to  come  to  you  on 
Tuesday ;  about  five  or  six  o'clock  I  mean  to  be  at 
Strawberry,  for  I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  thither  first.  If 
Hunter  at  all  satisfies  me  by  what  he  says  to-day  I  shall 
write  to  Lord  Orford  to-morrow,  you  will  then  know  by 
that ;  if  otherwise  (and  perhaps  at  any  rate)  I  shall  write 
to  your  dear  self. — Once  more,  farewell,  and  Heaven 
preserve  and  bless  you. 

2  o'clock. — I  find  that  I  have  time  to  say  one  word 


166  BERRY    PAPERS 

more  to  you,  as  I  seal  my  letter  before  Post  time.  The 
fleet  that  was  actually  in  motion  this  morning  is  returned 
to  its  station,  and  the  wind  contrary,  but  Colonel 
Lennox,1  who  I  met  when  we  went  to  look  at  the  shops, 
says  that  he  can  not  now  venture  to  stay,  but  means  to 
go  to-night  to  Portsmouth,  as  he  thinks  for  some  reason 
or  other  about  another  fleet  that  is  come  in  and  that 
they  expected  that  the  six  and  thirty  hours'  law  can  not 
be  depended  upon.  If  this  is  the  case  O'Hfara]  will  be 
under  the  same  obligation  of  being  at  Portsmouth,  and 
I  thought  this  morning,  in  spite  of  a  fine,  bright  sun, 
that  there  was  a  chill  in  the  air  which  portends  an  east 
or  north  wind. 

My  sister  has  just  sent  to  say  that  she  is  gone  down- 
stairs. They  are  all  riding  over  the  hills,  so  I  shall  go 
to  her.  On  reflection,  whither  or  not  I  write  to  Lord 
Orf[ord]  to-morrow,  I  will  write  a  few  lines  at  least  to 
you  by  Sunday's  post,  as  perhaps  you  will  like  it  better  ; 
if  I  can  not  come,  you  will  like  to  hear,  and  if  I  can, 
to  be  certain  that  I  am  comeing,  but  if  I  am  after  all 
suddenly  stoped  here,  don't  think  I  am  ill. — And  now 
once  more  Heaven  bless  you.  I  am  anxious  to  know 
you  are  better  than  I  know  you  were  when  you  wrote 
to  me.2 


Mary  Berry  to  General  O'Hara 

Twick[enha]m,  Saturday  Morning  [circa  21]  October  1795. 

After  three  or  four  hoursof  broken  slumber,  continually 
agitated  with  a  false  idea  of  seeing  you  the  next  day,  I 
wake  to  the  melancholy  certainty  of  a  long,  uncertain 

1  Charles  Lennox  (1764-18 19),  eldest  son  of  General  George  Henry 
Lennox  (1 737-1 805),  succeeded  to  the  dukedom  of  Richmond  and  Lennox, 
1 806.  It  was  his  wife  who  gave  the  famous  ball  at  Brussels  on  the  eve  of 
Waterloo. 

*  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  221. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      167 

and  painful  absense.  My  dear  friend,  I  find  my  mind 
much  less  strong  than  I  believed  it ;  and  yet,  in  sub- 
mitting to  this  absense,  I  think  I  am  doing  right.  I  am 
sure  I  am  consulting  the  peace  and  happiness  of  those 
about  me,  and  not  my  own.  I  think  you  will  hereafter 
love  me  the  better  for  knowing  me  capable  of  a  sacrifice 
which  you  cannot  now  doubt  how  much  I  feel,  and  my 
future  happiness  (if  any  is  in  store  for  me)  will  be  un- 
sullied by  the  idea  of  having  anticipated  it  at  the  expence 
of  the  feelings  of  others.  But  in  the  meantime  you  are 
gone  and  I  am  here,  and  my  mind  is  not  yet  in  a  state 
to  derive  much  comfort  from  cool  reasoning.  I  feel 
now  as  if  there  were  fifty  things  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  said  to  you  which  my  extreme  and  painful  oppression 
prevented  last  night  and  would,  I  am  convinced,  still 
prevent,  were  you  at  this  instant  at  my  side.  One  idea, 
however,  has  so  often  recurred  to  me  that  I  will  mention 
it.  As  in  every  possible  future  event  and  circumstance  I 
shall  always  be  proud  of  your  affection  and  sentiments 
for  me,  I  beseech  you,  in  case  of  illness,  or  any  danger, 
to  send  me,  if  possible,  some  token  or  assurance  that  you 
thought  of  me  to  the  last  as  you  do  at  this  moment.  If 
this  is  silly,  forgive  me.  My  mind  will,  I  hope,  soon 
recover  its  tone  and  then  you  shall  have  more  comfort- 
able letters  from  me, — but  writing  this  has  been  a 
relief  to  me,  and  therefore  I  think  must  be  some  comfort 
to  you.  Let  me  hear  from  you  from  Portsmouth  as 
soon  as  you  can,  I  beseech  you.1 


General  O'Hara  to  Mary  Berry 

Portsmouth,  Tuesday,  October  27,  1795. 

I  am  fully   sensible,   my  Dearest  Mary,  that   your 
letter  ought,  if  1  was  a  reasonable  Being,  to  afford  me 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  237- 


1 68  BERRY    PAPERS 

much  relief  and  comfort ;  but  every  moment  of  my 
existence  proves,  too  forcibly  for  my  peace,  that 
comfort  will  be  a  stranger  to  my  breast  when  absent 
from  you,  for  I  cannot,  like  you,  from  the  imperfection 
of  my  nature,  derive  fortitude  sufficient  to  sacrifice  my 
own  to  the  happiness  of  others.  The  delicacy  of  a 
mind  and  sensibility  of  heart  like  yours  are  alone  equal 
to  such  a  task,  and  tho',  I  assure  you  with  much  truth,  I 
believe  you  are  right,  it  will  be  in  vain  for  me  to  profit 
by  an  example.  Be  fully  persuaded  que  c'est  beaucoup 
plus  fort  que  moi.  You  have  awakened  my  fears,  and  in 
some  degree  my  curiosity,  where  you  say,  "that  you  feel 
there  were  fifty  things,  about  you  know  not  what,  that  you 
should  have  liked  to  have  said  to  me,  which  your  painful 
oppression  the  night  we  parted  prevented  and  would,  you 
are  convinced,  still  prevent,  was  I  at  your  side.  As  I 
always,  and  ever  shall,  act  without  reserve,  in  every 
possible  circumstance  of  my  life  that  may  affect  you, 
and  under  the  full  persuasion  that  your  confidence  is  as 
unbounded  as  mine, — open  your  heart  to  me,  be  the 
consequences  ever  so  injurious  to  my  happiness,  for 
you  must  know  me  but  little,  if  you  suppose  me  capable 
of  putting  your  peace  of  mind  in  competition  with  my 
own.  Your  flattering  sollicitude  (Mary,  your  tenderness 
undoes  me ;  how  very  strange  that  what  should  sooth 
and  comfort  can  at  the  same  time  excite  such  excessive 
anguish)  "  that  I  should  give  you,  in  the  event  of  illness  or 
danger,  some  token  that  my  sentiments  respecting  you  con- 
tinued the  same  as  at  present "  makes  too  deep  an  impres- 
sion for  any  language  to  express  ;  would  my  heart  was 
in  your  breast,  for  that  alone  could  make  you  sensible  of 
the  tender  and  affectionate  regard  of  my  dearest  Mary's 
faithful  friend.  Cha.  O'Hara. 

I  must  give  up,  I  fear,  even  the  hopes  of  seeing  you 
before  I  go,  for  Admiral  Waldegrave  shewed  me  a  letter 
this  afternoon  from  Admiral  Cornwallis  intimating  that, 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      169 

tho'  the  wind  was  contrary,  if  the  weather  should 
moderate,  he  should  endeavour  to  sail. 

Farewell,  farewell. 

The  jumbling  and  cold  I  got  travelling  all  night  with 
a  constant  headache,  and  pain  in  my  breast,  that  never 
quits  me,  weighs  very  heavy  on  my  old  frame. 

Tell  my  Dear  Mrs.  Damer  I  will  write  to  her  to- 
morrow ;  my  head  aches  so  much  I  cannot  hold  my  pen 
any  longer.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer  to  Mary  Berry 

Gros[veno]r  Square,  2  o'clock  October  30,  1795. 

My  mother  has  fidgeted  me  about  one  thing  or  other 
from  the  moment  I  was  up  till  I  went  with  her  to  her 
house  from  whence  I  am  just  returned  meaning,  poor 
soul !  I  know,  to  be  no  trouble  to  me.  I  have  not  had 
time  to  write  a  line  to  you  which  I  need  not  say  if  I  have 
been  wishing,  and  now  I  write  in  a  sort  of  hurry,  as  I 
expect  Lord  Milton,  or  perhaps  some  other  interrup- 
tion. My  head  aches  and  my  mind  is  confused  and 
oppressed.  You  will  have  again  seen  poor  0'H[ara], 
and  these  "  leave  takings "  affect  my  spirits  almost  as 
much,  I  believe,  as  they  can  yours.  I  quite  dread  their 
being  too  much  for  you,  I  know  and  see  the  passion  and 
agitation  of  his  mind,  and  the  effort  it  costs  him  to 
suppress  in  any  degree  the  violence  of  his  feelings.  He 
came  here,  poor  soul !  last  night,  and  consulted  me  in  a 
whisper  about  seeing  you  in  his  way  for  one  moment 
this  morning.  I  do  not  imagine  my  injunctions  could 
have  stoped  him,  but  my  heart  is  not  near  hard  enough 
to  try  the  experiment.  I  told  him  at  the  same  time  that 
these  painful  partings,  if  too  often  repeated,  would  make 
me  fear  much  for  you. 

However,  as  to  yesterday,  I  repeated  what  you  your- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f.  225. 


170  BERRY    PAPERS 

self  had  said  to  me  in  the  short  moment  I  saw  you 
after  he  had  left  you,  as  the  best  comfort  I  could  give 
him.  But  he  behaved  so  well  while  with  my  Mother 
and  Miss  Jennings, — talked  of  the  King  and  the  State 
and  I  know  not  what.  My  Mother  at  last  went  up 
to  her  room,  but  it  was  so  late  and  he  was  so  fatigued 
and  harrassed  (I  may  say  we),  that  little  was  said  on 
either  side  (after  what  I  mentioned).  We  parted  not 
without  more  than  one  hearty  embrace.  If  he  has  not 
been  with  you,  it  must  have  been  some  hurry  from 
change  of  wind  that  has  prevented  him.  /  did  not, 
rest  assured. 

Poor  dear  Ag[nes,]  I  do  really  pity  her,  but  I  do 
really  pity  you,  for  I  had  a  specimen  yesterday  morning 
when  she  came  to  me  of  what  you  have  to  go  through, 
and  of  the  little  comfort  (hard  as  it  seems  to  say  it) 
that  she  can  on  any  occasion  ever  be  to  you.  I  mean 
nothing  particular,  only  her  way  of  taking  up  things, 
her  hurry,  fidget  and  confused  ideas. 

My  Mother  desires  me  to  say  everything  that  is 
kind  from  her,  and  that  she  defends  on  your  coming 
to  P[ark]  Place  with  me  on  Tuesday.  Besides  her 
wishing  and  liking  your  comeing,  it  so  happens  that 
from  minor  considerations  the  time  particularly  suits 
her,  and  there  will  probably  only  be  Miss  Jennings 
there,  whom  she  takes  with  her  to-morrow.  God  grant 
nothing  may  prevent  our  having  some  few  quiet  days 
there  now  together.1 


General  O'Hara  to  Mary  Berry 

Portsmouth,  Saturday,  October  31 ,  1795. 

Here  I  am,  my  Dear,  Dear  Soul,  and  here  am  de- 
termined to  remain,  for  I   cannot  venture  to  see  you 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  £  227- 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      171 

again.  This  self-denial,  you  are  fully  convinced,  must 
cost  me  much,  but  our  meeting  to  part  again  afflicts 
and  strikes  too  deep  to  be  often  repeated.  Let  the 
pleasing  reflection  that  when  we  meet  again  it  will  be 
for  life,  comfort  and  support  us  thro'  the  anxious, 
tedious  hours  of  our  separation. 

I  believe  to  have  recommended  your  consulting  our 
friend  wither  you  should,  or  not,  mention  to  Lord 
Orford  our  proposed  connection.  Upon  reconsidering 
that  matter,  I  would  by  no  means  have  you  think  of 
it,  for  you  owe  to  his  affection,  his  friendship  and  the 
very  flattering  distinction  he  has  long,  constantly  and 
most  pointedly  shown  you,  every  degree  of  attention 
and  even  gratitude,  and  consequently  to  keep  from  him, 
as  long  as  it  is  possible,  the  knowledge  of  an  event  that, 
separating  you,  will  overwhelm  him  with  sorrow,  and  dis- 
appointment and  defeat  all  his  views  and  only  substantial 
comfort  he  enjoys  and  probably  wishes  to  live  for.  (My 
Dear  Mary,  thou  art  a  most  extraordinary  creature.) 
In  my  opinion,  the  proper  time  to  break  it  to  him  will 
be  when  you  are  at  the  eve  of  quitting  your  Father's 
house  for  mine,  and  that  communication  must  be  made 
by  yourself.  It  will  be  childish  in  you,  and  not  treat- 
ing him  with  the  deference  and  confidence  I  trust  he 
deserves,  to  employ  any  body  else.  II  s'entend  upon 
this  occasion,  as  upon  all  others  of  emergency,  the  Dear 
Stick  must  and,  I  am  sure,  will  give  her  friendly  assist- 
ance, for,  without  her  support,  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  be  able  to  walk  in  or  out  of  the  Peer's  room.  I 
think  I  see  you  pale  and  trembling,  thy  dear  delicate 
frame  shook  to  pieces,  hesitating  what  to  do  ;  and  when 
I  put  myself  in  your  place,  I  feel  most  forcibly  that 
upon  this  occasion  your  emotion  must  be  great,  and 
that  reflection,  when  I  consider  the  cause  that  agitates 
you,  makes  me  see  my  Dearest  Mary  in  a  point  of  view 
of  all  others  the  most  interesting  to  my  heart. 

Lord  Orford  will,  for  his  own  sake,  as  well  as  yours, 


172  BERRY    PAPERS 

receive  your  information  kindly.  You  must,  however, 
be  prepared  possibly  for  some  sudden,  peevish  animad- 
versions upon  your  marriage,  some  dictated  by  friend- 
ship, and  others  by  resentment.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 
has  a  claim  upon  your  patient  hearing,  and  possibly 
you  may  profit  from  the  many  truths  he  will  lay  before 
you,  drawn  from  his  long  experience  of  the  world.  He 
will  endeavour  to  prove  what  with  him  admits  of  no 
doubt,  the  excessive  folly  of  burning  incense  at  any 
other  shrines  but  those  of  Wealth  and  Birth.  Poor  me, 
I  feel  humbled  to  the  dust  when  I  think  of  either  ;  and 
when  he  has  talked  himself  out  of  arguments,  which, 
ct  coup  stir,  will  not  be  till  out  of  breath,  preserve  a  re- 
spectful silence,  for  you  will  plead  in  vain  to  a  judge 
who,  being  so  very  differently  composed  as  yourself, 
it  is  perfectly  impossible  you  should  understand  each 
other.  The  Noble  Earl  takes  glitter,  show  and  prece- 
dency— all  very  good  things  in  their  way  as  appendages, 
but  not  commanding  features  —  for  his  guide.  Thy 
sober,  chaste  mind  builds  its  happiness  (God  forbid  it 
prove  delusive)  upon  being  the  comfort,  the  support, 
the  warm  disinterested  friend  of  a  Man  who  has  nothing 
to  give  but  reciprocal  feelings.  With  all  the  respect 
and  deference  I  really  have  for  Lord  Orford,  and 
making  every  reasonable  allowance  for  the  claim  he  has 
upon  your  gratitude,  if  he  is  really  your  friend,  un- 
warped  by  selfish  considerations,  he  ought  to  rejoice 
at  an  event  you  contemplate  with  pleasure,  and  he 
ought,  from  his  knowledge  of  you,  [to]  think  you  per- 
fectly competent  to  judge  for  yourself  what  are  the 
qualities  you  wish  the  Man  to  possess  to  whom  you 
give  your  Person  and  dedicate  your  time  for  life. 

Having  now,  my  dear  Mary,  disposed  of  your  Peur, 
tant  bien  que  mal,  that  I  know  weighs  heavy  on  you,  my 
next  care  (for  I  consider  myself  already  wedded  to  you, 
and  bound  to  share  all  your  troubles  and  anxieties, 
which  I  do  du  fond  de  mon  cceur),  is  to  soothe  your 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      173 

throbbing  breast  with  respect  to  your  Father,  Sister,  and 
your  other  self  (et  n'en  deplaise,  my  other  self)  the  dear, 
dear  Stick, — they  must  know,  as  they  do  not  understand 
either  of  us,  that  when  you  are  mine,  you  will  be  as 
much  theirs  as  ever  you  was,  and  as  they  are  all  inde- 
pendent Beings,  they  may  be  with  us  as  much  as  they 
please. 

Both  your  letters  lay  unopened  upon  my  table  till  I 
had  got  so  far,  and  was  proposing  to  open  and  answer 
them  when,  curse  them,  I  was  sent  for  by  Sir  Wm. 
Pitt x  to  meet  Sir  R.  Abercromby,2  which  probably  will 
detain  me  so  long  that  it  will  not  be  in  my  power  to 
answer  them  till  to-morrow. 

I  have  not  the  most  distant  guess  without  the  aid  of 
the  King's  Decipherer,  how  you  can  possibly  read  this 
most  abominable  scrawl.  .  .  . 

I  am  this  moment  returned  from  Sir  Wm.  Pitt,  but 
my  hand  shakes  to  that  degree  it  is  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  write  any  more.  I  am  really  alarmed  about  my 
wounded  arm  that  I  perceive  grows  every  day  consider- 
ably weaker.  Prepare  yourself  to  be  my  Nurse.  If 
any  thing  can  recover  me,  it  will  be  thy  tenderness  and 
solicitude.  God  bless  and  preserve  you  in  the  same 
sentiments  you  now  experience  for  your  truly  affection- 
ate and  sincere  friend, 

Chas.  O'Hara. 

Tell  me  if  you  have  been  able  (which  I  fear  and 
doubt)  to  decipher  my  letters.3 

1  General  Sir  William  Augustus  Pitt  (i  728-1 809),  Governor  of  Ports- 
mouth, 1 794- 1 809. 

*  General  Sir  Ralph  Abercromby  (1734-1801),  who  commanded  the 
expedition  against  the  French  in  the  West  Indies,  1795-6. 

3  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  229. 


174  BERRY    PAPERS 

General  O'Hara  to  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner 

Portsmouth,  Monday,  November  9,  1795. 

Your  soothing  care,  and  affectionate  solicitude  for 
the  dear  Irresistable  claims  my  utmost  gratitude,  and 
plants  you,  my  dearest  friend,  the  most  amiable  as  well 
as  the  most  interesting  of  women,  in  the  inmost  recesses 
of  my  heart,  where  the  dear  Mary,  seated  en  souveraine, 
courts  you  to  remain  with  her  for  ever ;  there  folded 
in  her  arms,  her  throbbing  breast  pressed  to  yours,  she 
will  thank  you  for  us  both  in  a  language  I  believe  on 
my  soul  to  you  two  alone  on  earth  well  understood. 

In  your  letter  now  before  me,  you  call  upon  and 
urge  me  to  heal  the  wound  my  repeated  groundless 
apprehensions  have  so  deeply  impressed  on  the  too 
susceptible  mind  of  the  dear  Irresistable.  Thinking  of 
me  as  I  trust  you  do,  you  must  know  I  do  not  require 
entreaties  to  remedy  the  evils  you  are  both  determined 
to  conjure  up  and  accuse  me  with  having  created.  That 
soothing,  pleasing  task  was  the  purport  of  my  yesterday's 
letter  to  Mary,  and  I  repeat  to  you  what  I  observed  to 
her,  that  if  that  letter  does  not  restore  your  confidence, 
as  well  as  hers,  you  are  both  deceived  if  you  suppose 
Mary's  happiness  depends  on  me — and  the  sooner  I  am 
forgot,  for  all  our  sakes,  the  better.  I  have  desired 
Mary  to  send  you  that  letter,  as  well  as  that  I  wrote 
her  by  this  day's  post.  It  is  therefore  unnecessary  to 
recapitulate  what  you  will  find  in  those  letters. 

I  have  received  the  letter  you  supposed  the  dear 
Countess1  would  send  me,  which  I  very  sincerely  lament 
I  cannot  answer  this  day's  post,  from  the  very  weak 
state  of  my  arm,  which  I  beg  you  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  explain  to  her.  God  bless  you. — Ever  affec- 
tionately yours, 

Chas.  O'Hara.8 

1  Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury.  *  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  233- 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  175 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Park  Place,  Wednesday,  November  n,  1795. 

I  did  not  mean  to  send  you  a  letter  till  to-morrow, 
but  I  cannot  delay  giving  you  the  gratification  I  think 
you  will  feel  on  reading  the  enclosed  from  dear  O'Hfara]. 
It  so  affected  me  it  must  please  you.  What  a  Being  he 
is,  and  how  unlike  any  other  man  ! — except  in  those 
qualities  so  few  men  dare  be  like  him !  As  a  proof 
that  I  do  not  forget  your  injunctions  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  had  gone  but  three  or  four  times  over  0'H[ara]'s 
letter  this  morning  when  a  tap  at  my  door  obliged  me 
quickly  to  dry  the  tears  that  were  still,  I  assure  you, 
fast  trickling  down  my  cheeks,  and  that  I  was  not  cross. 
In  came  my  Mother — and  I  saw  for  business — seated 
herself  comfortably  by  the  fire,  and  said,  "  if  I  did  not 
very  much  dislike  it "  she  would  send  for  Copeland  and 
talk  to  him  with  me,  as  together  what  she  had  to  say 
might  be  better  "  enforced."  This  was  in  consequence 
of  what  Mr.  Hope  had  yesterday  desired  relative  to  the 
Farm,  &c.  &c.  Copeland  is  an  old,  obstinate,  interested 
crone,  to  say  no  more,  determined  to  go  on  in  his  own 
way  in  spite  of  Mr.  Hope,  as  the  latter  told  my  Mother 
in  plain  terms  yesterday.  I  wish  you  had  heard  my 
Mother  "  enforce "  and  insist.  I  could  not  in  duty  use 
your  expression  of  **  three  blue  bears,"  but  in  more 
respectful  terms  when  he  was  gone  I  did  just  observe 
she  had  not  shown  herself  very  absolute.  But  enough 
of  that  for  the  present. 

I  am  really  not  easy  about  0'H[ara]'s  arm  ;  I  trust 
to  God  he  is  careful  and  has  consulted  properly  about 
it  and  what  is  to  be  done.  The  climate  of  Gibraltar  will 
do  much,  I  trust.  Would  we  were  both  now  going 
there  to  coddle  him !  'Tis  the  truth,  and  I  will  in- 
dulge myself  at  least   in   the   expressing  a  vain   wish. 


176  BERRY    PAPERS 

Was  there  ever  anything  like  them!  I  mean  the 
puzzle  about  ships  or  some  things  (what,  for  the  life,  I 
cannot  decipher)  that  is  to  come  to  Portsmouth  from 
Plymouth  ! 

It  is  walking  time  now  and  I  must  go. — Heaven 
bless  you. 

1  o'clock. — The  wind  continues  North  East  and  has 
now  been  fair  long  enough,  I  believe,  to  have  carried 
one  of  "all"  our  fleets  out,  and  O'Hfara]  half  way  on 
his  passage.  It  is  too  provoking,  and  must  vex  him  to 
death.  I  must  remark  his  never  mentioning  the  storm  : 
the  roaring  winds  must  be  most  familiar  to  his  ears,  or, 
as  I  rather  think,  he  did  not  wish  to  dwell  on  what  he 
thought  might  at  this  moment  be  a  subject  of  alarm  to 
you  for  his  sake.  He  is  not  like  many  who  try  to 
exaggerate  their  dangers  to  create  an  interest  in  any 
case,  which  said  creation  and  commonplace  art  has 
about  the  same  effect  on  your  mind,  I  am  convinced, 
that  it  has  on  mine.  I  was  kept  in  good  humour  yester- 
day morning — at  least  should  have  been  put  into  good 
humour  had  I  been  disposed  to  be  otherwise — by  hearing 
you  praised.  There  is  nothing  they  did  not  say  here, 
separately  and  together.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  am  sure 
it  was  what  they  felt,  and  not  said  for,  or  to  me.  Even 
Louisa  would  have  said  something  if  she  had  known 
how.  Seriously,  she  was  not,  I  think,  by  at  the  time ; 
it  was  when  we  were  walking.  My  Mother  began  by 
saying  (and  she  seemed  to  say  it  quite  with  pleasure) 
that  you  "had  made  a  conquest  of  Miss  Jennings." 
Then  up  came  the  Grim  King  and  talked  you  over  in 
his  softest  tone. 

In  the  evening  I  was  in  that  half-oppressed  state, 
partly  perhaps  from  the  cold,  that  gives  me  an  uncon- 
querable disposition  to  gape  at  every  instant,  and  the 
Grim  King  was  as  uncomfortable  in  his  way,  tho' 
without  a  shadow  of  crossness,  first  half  asleep  in  a 
chair  by  the  fire,  and  then  talking  to  Louisa.     I  stuck 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      177 

to  the  card  table,  where  I  was  wanted,  and  Miss  Jen- 
nings scratched  her  right  temple  and  beat  me  every 
rubber. 

I  wish  you  could  have  stayed  at  least  a  day  or 
two  longer  here,  that  we  might  have  talked  over  these 
letters  of  dear  O'Hfara]  together,  for  you  well  know 
no  pleasure,  no  gratification,  can  be  half  enjoyed  by 
me  without  you,  and  then  my  heart  almost  opens  to 
a  degree  of  hope  that  was  for  ever  from  my  most 
distant  expectation,  tho'  I  felt  sure  of  the  reflected 
comfort  I  should  feel  from  any  happyness  you  might 
enjoy. 

Farewell,  for  I  will  write  a  few  lines  to  O'Hfara]. 
You  may  keep  the  letter  I  enclose,  but  I  must  have  it 
again  when  we  meet.  It  is  the  picture  of  a  mind  I 
admire  and  love,  and  I  shall  not  part  with  it.  I  would 
part  with  it  only  to  you,  and  you  have  other  copies. 
Heaven  bless  you.1 

So  O'Hara  sailed  for  Gibraltar,  and  took  up  his  new 
position,  which  he  held  with  distinction  until  his  death 
on  February  21,  1802.  u  Old  Cock  of  the  Rock,"  he  was 
affectionately  dubbed  by  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  and 
there  is  an  interesting  pen-portrait  of  him  in  Captain 
Thomas  Hamilton's  novel,  The  Youth  and  Manhood  of 
Cyril  Thornton,  of  which  an  extract  may  here  be  given, 
since  perhaps  it  explains  the  attraction  that  he  at  the 
age  of  fifty-six  had  for  a  woman  three-and-twenty  years 
his  junior.  "  His  appearance,  indeed,  was  of  that  striking 
cast,  which,  when  once  seen,  is  not  easily  forgotten," 
Hamilton  wrote:  "General  O'Hara  was  the  most  per- 
fect specimen  I  ever  saw,  of  the  soldier  and  courtier  of 
the  last  age,  and  in  his  youth  had  fought  with  Granby 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  235. 

M 


178  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  Ligonier.  One  could  have  sworn  to  it  by  his  an 
and  look — nay,  by  the  very  cut  of  his  coat — that  double 
row  of  sausage  curls  that  projected  on  either  flank  of 
his  toupee — or  the  fashion  of  the  huge  military  boots 
which  rivalled  in  size,  and  far  outshone  in  lustre,  those 
of  a  Dutch  fisherman  or  French  postillion.  Never  had 
he  changed  for  a  more  modern  covering  the  Keven- 
huller  hat,  which  had  been  the  fashion  of  his  youth. 
There  it  was,  in  shape  precisely  that  of  an  equilateral 
triangle,  placed  with  mathematical  precision  on  the 
head,  somewhat  elevated  behind,  and  sloping  in  an 
unvarying  angle  downwards  to  the  eyes,  surmounted 
by  a  long  stiff  feather  rising  from  a  large  rosette  of 
black  ribbon  on  the  dexter  side.  This  was  the  last  of 
the  Kevenhullers ;  it  died,  and  was  buried  with  the 
Governor,  for  no  specimen  has  since  been  discovered, 
and  the  Kevenhiiller  hat,  like  the  Mammoth  and  the 
Mastodon,  has  become  extinct  for  ever."  x 

Mary  Berry  stayed  in  England,  looking  forward 
eagerly  to  the  day  that  would  for  ever  bring  them 
together.  Such  pleasure  as  she  might  have  found  in 
this  marriage  was  not,  however,  to  be  hers.  O'Hara 
was  a  lover  of  the  sex,  and  the  last  man  in  the  world 
to  subsist  on  a  platonic  attachment.  At  Gibraltar  he 
formed  connections  with  two  women,  by  each  of  whom 
he  had  a  family,  and  he  soon  ceased  to  care  for  the 
woman  he  had  wished  to  make  his  wife.  Mary  Berry 
certainly  had  herself  to  blame  for  the  result,  though 
probably  it  was  best  for  her  that  the  love-affair  ended 
as  it  did.     O'Hara   is   perhaps   not  to   be  blamed  for 

1  Cyril  Thornton  (2nd  ed.)i  ii.  M7-  The  description  of  O'Hara,  however, 
is  at  second-hand,  for  Captain  Hamilton,  who  was  born  in  1789,  never 
saw  him. 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  179 

feeling  aggrieved  that  his  fiancee  put  the  feelings  of 
others  before  consideration  for  him.  She  would  not 
marry  him  when  he  urged  her,  because  she  would  not 
hurt  Horace  Walpole,  because  she  would  not  leave  her 
father  and  her  sister,  to  the  happiness  of  each  of  whom 
she  regarded  herself  as  indispensable.  A  lover  might  be 
forgiven  for  taking  the  view  that  he  should  first  be  con- 
sidered. The  end  of  the  story  is  best  told  by  the  letters 
that  passed  between  them. 


Mary  Berry  to  General  O'Hara 

[  Undated,  circa  January  i  796]. 

Setting  to  work  with  a  pen,  ink  and  paper  and 
an  Arithmetic  upon  the  plan  of  life  you  at  first  pro- 
posed, my  dear  friend,  I  find,  as  indeed  I  told  you  at 
the  time,  that  it  would  cost  much  more  than  you  had 
any  idea  of,  and  much  more  even  than  the  funds  of 
which  you  then  supposed  yourself  possessed.  But  upon 
a  smaller  scale  (on  the  accuracy  of  which  from  my  ex- 
perience in  my  father's  house  I  think  you  may  depend) 
I  have  made  out  a  plan  which,  I  am  persuaded,  includes 
every  comfort  necessary  to  a  small  establishment  in 
London  upon  the  only  footing  that  you  and  I  should 
like  any  establishment — that  of  order  and  regular  ex- 
pence,  not  of  pinching  economy  and  pitiful  savings  of 
which  I  am  as  incapable  as  yourself,  c'est  tout  dire.  You 
who  are  perfectly  unacquainted  with  the  details  of  an 
Establishment  in  this  town,  will,  I  daresay,  be  astonished 
at  the  expence  of  every  article.  I  have  taken  them  up 
at  their  present  high  price,  and  made  such  a  liberal 
allowance  upon  most  of  them  that  I  think  we  should 
never  exceed  and  might  sometimes  be  within  the  mark ; 


180  BERRY    PAPERS 

but  upon  a  less  sum,  that  is  to  say,  at  less  than  the  rate 
of  this  sum  per  annum,  I  don't  think  you  could  possibly 
live  comfortably  to  yourself  in  London.  I  mean  seeing 
agreeably  all  those  friends  who  should  prefer  a  neat 
plain  dinner  or  supper,  and  our  agreeable  society  to  a 
French  Cook  and  dull  company.  You  will  see  I  have 
cut  off  all  your  extravagancies,  your  Saddle  Horses,  your 
separate  carriage,  and  one  of  your  Men-Servants ;  and 
yet  I  have  not  reduced  my  calculation  within  the  limits 
you  prescribed  ;  but  I  have  to  observe  that  our  expences 
whether  we  were  in  the  Kingdom  of  Gibraltar,  visiting 
the  Pyramids,  or  on  any  other  travelling  scheme  whatso- 
ever would  everywhere  be  considerably  less  than  estab- 
lished in  London, — and  that  whenever  you  find  such 
establishment  inconvenient  or  imprudent,  I  shall  be  the 
person  most  eager  to  break  it  up  and  most  willing  to 
accompany  you  to  any  other  part  of  the  Globe.  I 
must  tell  you,  too,  that  upon  my  father's  talking  to 
me  upon  the  subject  of  affairs,  which  he  has  done 
since  we  parted,  I  find  him  quite  unwilling  that  I 
should  be  a  burthen  to  you,  and  determined  that 
every  thing  I  can  have  from  him  shall  belong  to 
you  as  soon  as  I  do  myself.  Enough  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  money,  on  which  I  know  we  both  think 
much  alike.  I  am  aware  of  all  its  advantages,  take 
all  it  procures,  and  know  how  little  it  can  be  done 
without ;  but  the  more  or  the  less  never  made  happi- 
ness, and  when  weighed  against  the  real  satisfactions 
of  the  heart  is  not  (even  to  the  sober  eye  of  reason) 
a  feather  in  the  scale. 

[Enclosure.] 

£  s.  d. 
One  pair  of  Job  Horses  inclusive  of  coachman's 

wages  for  8  months  of  the  year  .        .        .  125  o  o 

Annual  repairs  to  Carriage  about      .        .        .  25  o  o 

Two  Men  Servants  at  .£20  apiece      .        .        .  40  o  o 

An  Upper  Man  at  the  wages  of        .        .        .  5500 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  181 

£  *.  d. 
Wages  of  4  Women  Servants,  a  Housekeeper,  a 
Cook  under  her,  a  House  maid  and  Lady's 

maid 58  o  o 

Liveries  for  the  3  Men  Servants  and  the  Coach- 
man      80  o  o 

House  rent  and  taxes         .....       200  o  o 

Coals 50  o  o 

Candles 25  o  o 

Beer 25  o  o 

Wine 100  o  o 

Housekeeping,  at  the  rate  of  ^10  a  week  or  ^40 

a  month 480  o  o 

£1263  o  o 

To  you 800  o  o 

To  me 200  o  o 

.£2263  o  o x 


General  O'Hara  to  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner 

Gibraltar,  April  26,  1796. 

When  you  have  seen  my  letter  to  your  friend,  you 
will  understand  for  what  reason  I  complain  of  the  very 
extraordinary  treatment  I  have  received  from  you  both, 
and  how  very  sensibly  I  am  affected  by  it, — par- 
ticularly from  you,  who  I  love  with  the  warmest,  most 
cordial  affection, — not  only  for  your  own  uncommon 
excellencies,  but  because  you  are  the  Daughter  of  the 
two  people  upon  Earth  to  whom  I  feel  the  most  obliged 
for  the  affectionate  countenance  and  protection  upon 
which  my  good  fortune  and  pride  has  been  built. — 
Farewell.2 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  269.  *  Id.,  f.  238. 


1 82  BERRY    PAPERS 


Mary  Berry  to  Gen.  O'Hara 

April  27  [1796]. 

All  my  doubts  are  at  an  end. — You  have  at  last 
thought  fit  to  speak  a  language  which  no  prepossession 
can  mistake,  nor  no  indulgence  palliate. — I  have  now  re- 
ceived your  letters  of  the  26th  February  and  30th  March, 
and  Mrs.  D[amer]  your  letter  of  the  7th  March. — Make 
yourself  perfectly  easy.  —  Your  having  "  consented  to 
become  my  Husband  "  as  you  are  pleased  to  express  your- 
self to  Mrs.  Dfamer]  will  entail  none  of  the  evils  you 
so  much  dread. 

My  last  letter  of  the  4th  April  will  have  shown  you 
my  unwillingness  to  believe  and  my  determination  not 
to  admit,  the  only  interpretation  your  long  silences  and 
the  very  improper  style  of  your  letters  could  bear,  till 
sanctioned  by  yourself. — That  sanction  you  have  at  last 
fully  and  completely  given  in  two  letters  whose  least 
faults  are  their  being  a  farrago  of  inconsistencies  and 
contradictions,  both  with  regard  to  me  and  yourself. — They 
are  expressed  in  terms  which  I  believe  were  never  before 
used  to  any  Gentlewoman,  not  to  say  to  any  woman  of 
common  sense  and  common  spirit. — They  have,  however, 
completely  done  their  business,  yet  so  persuaded  have 
you  chosen  to  be  (from  what  part  of  my  character  I  am 
perfectly  at  a  loss  to  guess)  that,  whatever  your  conduct, 
/  am  determined  to  marry  you,  that  I  fancy  you  will 
hardly  now  believe  your  own  eyes  or  my  assertions. — 
You  desire  me  to  be  explicit  and  to  be  serious  (as  if  / 
had  ever  been  otherwise)  but  I  shall  now  be  explicit  in 
your  own  words,  which  as  they  are  generally  very  extra- 
ordinary ones,  may  perhaps  (to  yourself)  be  clearer  than 
any  others. — I  do  then  "  indeed  suppose,  and  verily  believe 
that  you  have  recourse  to  a  thousand  falsehoods  and  imagin- 
ary apprehensions  merely  as  a  cover  to  disguise  the  real 
cause,  your  having  altered  your  mind  and  not  meaning  to 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      183 

marry." — Your  letter  to  Mrs.  D.  confirms  this  to  me, 
nay,  owns  the  change  in  your  sentiments  in  express 
terms. — And,  on  the  other  hand,  even  supposing  your 
intentions  with  regard  to  marriage  were  not  really 
altered,  then  your  conduct  towards  me  for  these  last  six 
months  has  been  such  as  "  justly  to  have  forfeited  my  good 
opinion  with  all  its  inevitable  consequences, — my  affection 
and  esteem." 

My  frank,  open,  honourable  nature  would  have  pre- 
ferred and  given  you  credit  for  a  more  immediate,  a  more 
decided  and  a  more  Gentlemanlike  avowal  of  a  change  in 
your  sentiments  ;  it  would  have  spared  me  many  months 
of  cruel  anxiety,  and  when  I  had  ceased  to  consider  you  as 
a  Lover,  your  character  would  to  me  have  remained  in- 
violate as  a  friend. — You  have  chosen  it  otherwise ;  so 
fare  you  well,  and  if  ever  in  future  you  feel  the  want  or 
require  the  comfort  of  a  sincere,  intelligent,  affectionate 
friend,  remember  the  pains  you  took  to  eradicate  senti- 
ments which  you  will  then  no  longer  mistrust  and  of 
which  no  power  on  earth  but  yourself  could  have 
robbed  you. — Farewell. 

April  29th. 

Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  seen  your  friend, 
Mr.  Barnes,  who  delivered  me  your  letter  of  the  20th 
March,  and  I  have  since  received  your  letters  of  the 
27th. — They  are  all  of  a  piece  with  the  unwarrant- 
able and  unprovoked  language  of  the  other  two,  but  a 
hundred  such  letters  would  now  have  no  other  effect 
upon  me  than  confirming  my  indifference  to  their 
opinions  of  myself,  and  my  pity  for  their  wrong-headed 
writer,  who,  under  the  mask  of  exaggerated  ideas  of 
honour  and  justice,  is  perhaps  not  aware  he  is  guilty  of 
a  flagrant  breach  of  both. — In  your  letter  of  the  27th 
March  you  talk  to  me  of  keeping  you  in  doubt  and  un- 
certainty— to  me  who,  till  the  receipt  of  your  last  letters, 
had  no  more  doubt  of  becoming  your  wife  than  she  has 


1 84  BERRY    PAPERS 

now  of  having  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  man  who 
can  bargain  for  tyranny  beforehand,  and  would  accept 
of  that  Being  for  his  Wife  who  he  found  would  patiently 
submit  to  ill-treatment. 

Mr.  Barnes  will  give  you  his  own  opinion  of  your 
conduct. — His  distress  at  it  was  visible  on  his  counte- 
nance.— It  is  at  his  earnest  request  that  I  have  not  sent 
this  letter  by  to-day's  post,  and  indeed  I  should  be 
sorry  that  you  supposed  it  the  hasty  effusions  of  anger, 
instead  of  the  calm  resolutions  of  a  suffering  injured 
and  determined  mind. — Farewell. 

PS. — I  should  not  have  taken  notice  of  your  writing 
a  letter  to  Mr.  Barnes  by  the  hand  of  a  Secretary,  in 
which  my  name  at  full  length,  and  the  proposed  con- 
nexion is  talked  of,  if  you  had  not  thought  fit  to  accuse 
me  of  having  mentioned  what  time  has  proved  the 
propriety  of  concealing. — On  my  side  I  am  certain  it 
has  not  been  betrayed ;  you  best  know  if,  after  the 
fact  I  have  mentioned,  you  can  say  as  much  on  yours.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  General  O'Hara 

Grosvknor  Square,  May  2,  1796. 

You  have  no  "sermons,"  be  assured,  to  fear  from 
me. — A  few  words  will  be  sufficient  to  answer  the  part 
of  your  letter  which  relates  to  myself,  and,  as  you  have 
made  it  useless,  I  shall  certainly  not  trouble  you  further 
with  my  sentiments  on  your  conduct  to  my  friend. 
She  must  judge,  decide,  and  speak  for  herself,  and  I 
thank  Heaven !  that  blended  with  tenderness  and 
affection  she  has  a  force  of  mind,  rarely  indeed  united 
in  the  same  character,  which  will  enable  her  to  do  so  in  a 
manner  that  can  leave  her  no  regret  as  to  her  own 
decision.     As  to  myself,  my  real  and  sincere  friendship 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  272. 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY   185 

for  you  was  founded  on  an  opinion  of  your  character — 
a  compound,  as  I  thought,  of  honour,  sincerity  and 
affection,  which  your  conduct  for  these  five  months 
passed  has  proved  so  very  erroneous,  it  is  impossible 
that  friendship  can  as  formerly  subsist.  Not  that  I 
shall  ever  be  blind  to  your  merits,  or  what  I  still  believe 
in,  the  natural  goodness  of  your  heart,  but  so  corrupted 
are  your  sentiments  and  opinions,  I  suppose  by  bad 
habits  and  a  bad  world,  that  they  are  in  fact  scarcely, 
and  I  am  sure  in  this  occasion  not  at  all,  to  be  traced. 
When  we  parted  (Oct.  28th),  all  doubts,  scruples  and 
fears,  in  appearance,  were  banished  from  your  breast ; 
your  confidence  in  me  at  the  time  seemed  such  as 
would  have  engaged  you  to  express  them,  had  any 
remained  respecting  my  friend  and  your  future  con- 
nection :  all,  in  short,  was  settled  relative  to  your 
marriage  but  the  mode  and  means  of  your  meeting. 
No  new  dimcultys  have  arisen,  no  change  on  her  side, 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  had  taken  place. — On  April 
the  27th  I  received  your  letter  of  the  7th  March,  the 
first  addressed  to  me  since  your  departure. — On  this 
letter  I  shall  make  no  comments ;  but  lest  you  should 
have  forgotten  its  contents,  as  a  justification  of  what 
I  have  said  I  enclose  you  one  of  triplicates  you  sent 
me. — Farewell. 

Anne  S.  Damer.1 


Mary  Berry  to  General  O'Hara 

Twick[enha]m,  July  16,  1796. 

Alas,  my  dear  friend,  how  have  you  trifled  and 
doubted  away  both  your  own  happiness  and  mine  ! — I 
have  this  moment  received  your  letter  of  the  20th  June. 

The  high  opinion,  the  confidence  and  the  affection 
which  you   know  I  have  so   long  had   for  you  when 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  239. 


1 86  BERRY    PAPERS 

considering  you  merely  in  the  light  of  a  friend,  still 
assures  me  that  what  you  say  in  your  letter  is  strictly 
true  or  at  least  what  you  believe  to  be  so.  And  as 
far  as  I  am  able  to  comprehend  your  real  meaning 
and  wishes  from  your  letter  ;  it  is  this : — That  your 
intentions  with  regard  to  me  have  never  altered,  but 
(to  use  your  own  words)  "  when  separation  gave  you  time 
to  reflect  and  see  what  would  be  'probably  the  result  of  our 
marriage  considered  on  the  serious  side,"  such  doubts  and 
fears  of  our  mutual  happiness  arose  in  your  mind  as 
you  thought  necessary  to  communicate  to  me. — Re- 
member it  is  not  of  this  I  complain  :  on  the  contrary, 
you  know  my  principal  reason  for  objecting  to  our 
marriage  before  you  left  England  was  that  it  might 
be  sanctioned  by  reflexion,  but  the  moment  that  reflexion 
made  it  appear  to  you  in  a  different  light,  the  moment 
such  doubts  and  fears  took  possession  of  your  mind, 
that  moment  you  should  have  decidedly  and  openly 
owned  your  altered  feelings,  instead  of  only  starting 
injurious  doubts  which  your  always  making  to  originate 
in  my  sentiments  instead  of  your  own,  together  with 
the  frequent  levity  of  your  style,  have  alone  thus 
long  deceived  me  both  as  to  your  conduct  and  your 
real  wishes. — My  constitution  and  character  does  not 
like  yours  "urge  and  press  me  on  with  Giant  steps  upon 
every  occasion."  On  the  contrary,  obliged  from  my 
earliest  youth  not  only  to  think  for  myself,  but  to 
think  for  those  who  ought  to  have  thought  for  me, 
I  have  learnt  to  make  Giant  steps  in  nothing  but 
thoughtfulness  and  precaution.  Ihad  given  the  subject 
of  our  union  my  most  serious  consideration  in  every 
point  of  view  in  which  i"  could  place  it,  before  I  agreed 
to  it,  and  before  we  parted.  No  separation  would  then 
have  made  any  difference  in  my  opinion  till  I  was 
convinced  it  had  altered  yours,  but  the  instant  this 
was  the  case  to  have  concealed  it  from  me  would 
have  been  treachery  to  my  all-confiding  affection  and 


THE  LOVE-STORY  OF  MARY  BERRY  187 

sacrificing  every  real  principle  of  honour  to  a  Phantom 
that  would  have  made  us  both  miserable.  All  I  have 
to  complain  of  is  that  you  did  not  sooner  explain 
yourself  in  clearer  and  less  offensive  language,  and 
not  continue  for  months  together  writing  to  the  Being 
who,  by  your  own  account,  you  still  continued  to 
love,  letters  whose  style,  arguments,  and  general  import 
deceived  not  only  my  partial  judgement  but  that  of 
my  friend  (interested  in  nothing  so  much  as  me  and 
yourself),  that  of  my  Father,  that  of  my  Sister,  and  that 
of  the  sober  head  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Barnes,  whose 
letters  to  you  (which  he  showed  me)  must  surely  have 
convinced  you,  if  anything  could,  of  the  extreme  im- 
propriety and  cruelty  of  your  letters  to  a  woman  you 
still  loved,  respected,  and  intended  to  become  your 
wife.  Can  you  possibly  think  that  so  many  people,  all 
warmly  partial  to  you,  should  unite  in  wilfully  misunder- 
standing and  misconstruing  your  letters,  if  they  had 
been  in  any  respect  such  as  reason  and  affection  should 
have  dictated  to  a  person  in  my  situation,  at  such  a 
distance,  and  who  always  addressed  you  with  the  perfect, 
unbounded  confidence  and  affection  which  she  always 
felt  for  you  ? — Can  you,  I  say,  think  this  possible  ?  And 
yet  in  your  letter  of  to-day  you  still  continue  to  talk 
of  your  having  been  u  so  ungenerously  and  unhandsomely 
misconstrued." 

What  then  remains  for  me  but,  while  I  acquit  you 
of  any  dishonourable  change  in  your  intentions,  to  lament, 
which,  believe  me,  I  do  heartily,  an  obstinate  wrong- 
headedness  which  in  despite  even  of  your  own  wishes 
will  ever  prevent  your  judging  fairly  either  of  my 
character,  or  that  of  my  friend,  and  consequently  of 
treating  either  as  they  deserve, — to  lament  that  the  false 
and  profligate  ideas  which  I  know  you  entertain  of 
women  in  general,  and  which  I  have  so  often  and  so 
seriously  combated  long  before  I  thought  myself  at  all 
concerned  in  your  opinion,  should   have  so  pervaded 


1 88  BERRY    PAPERS 

your  sentiments  and  so  falsified  your  view  of  every 
individual,  as  even  to  prevent  your  warm  and  excellent 
heart  indulging  in  its  natural  and  unbiassed  feelings 
towards  those  best  formed  to  understand  and  sympa- 
thize with  them  ? — Sincerely  do  I  pity  a  disposition 
which  I  know  must  inflict  upon  itself  almost  as  much 
pain  as  it  has  given  me,  for  your  natural  good  sense 
will  often,  for  a  time,  get  the  better  of  these  vile  pre- 
judices, and  you  will  then  feel  that  while  they  deprive 
you  of  every  thing  that  can  give  rational  comfort,  they 
supply  nothing  in  its  place  but  unavailing  precautions, 
useless  doubts,  and  ungenerous  sentiments. 

You  say  you  are  "certain  it  will  be  in  vain  to  plead 
against  preposession  and  prejudice  as  strongly  taken  up 
as  mine  appears  to  be."  You  see  I  have  neither  "prepos- 
ession" nor  "prejudice"  and  that  the  moment  you 
speak  seriously,  I  seriously  acquit  you  of  any  change 
in  your  intentions ;  but  how  can  I  acquit  you  of  what 
you  neither  own  nor  attempt  a  justification  of, — your 
various  and  repeated  misconceptions  and  want  of  con- 
fidence in  my  character  ?  How  can  I  acquit  you  of 
eternally  construing  the  frank,  unaffected  dictates  of  my 
affection  for  you  into  a  determination  of  marriage  of  any 
sort,  and  an  eagerness  for  this  in  particular,  which  in  the 
very  next  sentence,  perhaps,  of  the  same  letter,  you 
declared  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  like  or 
wish  ?  How  can  I  acquit  you  of  the  mad  wrongheaded- 
ness  with  which  you  took  up  the  special  messenger 
which  my  friend  sent  you  by  Lisbon,  merely  to  acceler- 
ate our  meeting,  which  we  then  thought  you  desired  as 
much  as  ourselves,  and  your  returning  answers,  not 
only  the  most  highly  improper  and  affronting  in  them- 
selves, but  the  most  perfectly  unconnected  with  the 
letters  to  which  they  ought  to  have  replied  ?  Tell  me 
how  I  can  acquit  your  understanding  of  all  this,  for  your 
heart,  I  still  believe  excellent — and  I  may  still  have  the 
comfort  of  thinking  of  you  as  I  did  six  months  ago. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      189 

I  have  still  a  high  value  for  your  friendship  and  good 
opinion,  both  of  which  I  feel  I  deserve,  but  I  will  never 
purchase  either  by  the  baseness  of  saying  I  regret  a 
conduct  guided  throughout  by  the  calm  dictates  of  the 
sincerest  and  most  rational  affection  for  you,  tempering 
the  consideration  ever  due  to  oneself ;  a  conduct  which 
I  am  certain,  were  you  an  unprejudiced  spectator,  you 
yourself  would  be  the  first  to  approve.  When  you  talk 
of  **  the  tone  of  harsh  and  bitter  invective  with  which  you 
have  been  treated"  I  have  only  to  conclude  you  weigh 
your  own  words  as  little  as  you  do  those  of  others,  and 
to  refer  you  to  a  reperusal  of  all  my  letters,  and  most 
especially  that  of  18th  Ma[y]  (or  March)  in  which  if  you 
do  not  find  "  cool,  deliberate,  kind  and  reasonable  admoni- 
tions," I  shall  cease  endeavouring  to  convince  myself  that 
the  O'Hara  with  whom  I  have  been  corresponding  is 
the  same  warmhearted,  rational,  affectionate  O'Hara 
with  whom  I  parted  in  October. — Farewell.1 

With  this  communication  ends  the  correspondence 
between  Mary  Berry  and  O'Hara;  but  there  are  two 
other  letters  hitherto  unpublished  which  deal  with  the 
subject,  and  may  fittingly  here  be  inserted. 


Mary  Berry  to  John  Barnes 

BOGNOR,  August  30,   1796. 

DEAR  Sir, — I  am  much  obliged  by  your  letter  of  the 
27th,  and  the  desire  you  manifest  to  justify  yourself 
from  any  supposed  want  of  candour  and  openness  in 
your  conduct  toward  me.  I  believe  you  perfectly  in- 
capable of  any,  intentionally,  and  I  do  you  the  justice 
to  believe  that  nothing  but  your  earnest  desire  to  make 
some  sort  of  apology  for  your  friend,2  and  to  spare  what 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  251. 

*  General  O'Hara.     Barnes  is  mentioned  in  the  letter  from  Mary  Berry  to 
O'Hara,  July  16,  1796. 


190  BERRY    PAPERS 

you  might  suppose  my  wounded  pride,  could  induce 
you  to  pay  so  bad  a  compliment  to  my  understanding 
as  to  bring  forward  an  apology  which  has  been  always 
offered,  and  never  believed,  ever  since  men  and  women 
have  been  mutually  inconstant,  viz.  that  excess  of 
affection  urges  them  to  part,  and  excessive  considera- 
tion for  their  happiness  dictates  making  them  miserable. 
I  do  you  more  justice  than  to  suppose  that  even  in  spite  of 
your  partiality  to  your  Friend,  such  an  apology  satisfies 
either  your  heart  or  your  understanding.  You  know  that 
it  is  no  unheard  of  thing  for  people  to  change  their  mind 
upon  these  occasions,  and  that  when  they  have  no  shadow 
of  complaint  to  make,  they  then  feel  themselves  in  a  very 
awkward  predicament,  and  I  am  persuaded  that,  in  spite 
of  your  present  admiration  of  your  friend's  conduct, 
you  would  have  thought  it  much  more  "  worthy  of  his 
character "  (and  I  am  sure  it  would  have  been  much 
more  worthy  of  mine)  to  have  honestly  owned  this 
change  in  a  very  different  manner,  instead  of  always 
putting  me  in  the  wrong  and  by  the  most  unkind, 
affronting  and  improper  letters,  forcing  me  into  a 
determination  which  he  had  long  before  taken  himself, — 
and  deceiving  me  (I  use  the  true  word,  deceiving  me)  for 
months  together  as  to  his  real  wishes. 

I  require  no  answer,  Sir,  to  this  letter.  I  neither 
wish  to  wound  your  feelings  by  obliging  you  to  con- 
demn the  conduct  of  your  Friend,  nor  to  betray  your 
integrity  into  attempting  an  excuse  for  it.  I  have  the 
satisfaction  of  thinking  that  he  himself  knows  me  too 
well  not  to  feel  that  my  heart  as  little  deserves  his 
conduct  as  my  understanding  his  apology. 

When  I  return  to  town,  I  shall  certainly  inform  you, 
and  shall  be  happy  at  all  times  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you. — 1  am,  dear  Sir,  Your  obliged  and  obedient 
humble  servant,  M.  BERRY.1 

»  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  243. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      191 

Mrs.  Chomeley  to  Mary  Berry 

Sunday \  November  28,  1796. 

I  must  write  to  you,  my  poor,  my  best  friend,  yet 
indeed  I  hardly  know  what  to  say !  My  mother  sent  me 
your  little  note  to  her,  dated  last  Tuesday. — Your  Mind 
(and  such  a  Mind)  so  overset  had  sufficiently  agitated 
and  disturbed]  me,  but  to  find  that  so  serious  bodily 
illness  has  been  added  to  all  your  other  sufferings  does 
indeed  make  me  thoroughly  miserable  about  you. — My 
last  letter  too — oppressed  and  overcome  as  you  are — may, 
I  fear,  have  appeared  too  severe,  and  from  the  mere 
infirmity  of  your  Body,  what  I  meant  to  rouse  may  have 
contributed  to  crush  you !  All  these  ideas  together 
distress  and  perplex  me  more  than  I  can  express.  Yet 
I  know  your  Heart  must  forgive  and  acquit  me,  and  to 
that  I  appeal  which  I  am  sure  can  never  fail  you,  even 
tho'  all  else  is  wreck'd  and  convuls'd. — Till  I  hear  from 
you  again,  I  can  suggest  nothing  to  you. — Poor  Agnes 
feels  about  you  exactly  as  I  did,  namely,  that  till  this  last 
letter  of  his,  your  Heart  had  never  relinquished  its 
Hopes.  Yet  surely,  surely,  such  a  mind  as  yours  must 
rise  superior  to  all  the  affliction  and  disappointment 
which  have  blasted  your  affections. — That  mind  must 
rejoice  even  while  the  heart  bleeds,  at  its  discovery  and 
escape  from  a  union  for  life  with  such  a  character  !  I 
am  confident  you  was  ever  deceived  by  this  man. — I  have 
often  told  you  your  own  character  so  bewitches,  so 
imposes  on  those  who  once  know  and  admire  you  that 
they  absolutely  shine  by  your  light,  and  their  own 
inferior  selves,  shrinking  before  your  noble  character, 
imperceptibly  adopt  your  opinions,  receive  your  colour- 
ing, and  fancy  the  borrow'd  plumes  their  own  !  I  know 
not  if  you  understand  me,  but  Men,  even  the  best  Men, 
I  often  think,  under  this  influence  from  Women  they 
respect    and    admire,    even   for  your   inferiors. — How 


192  BERRY    PAPERS 

much  more  from  you !  I  lately  and  but  lately  heard 
him  spoken  of  as  a  Man  of  the  most  frightful  and  un- 
governable passion. — Was  you  aware  of  that  ?  Oh,  my 
beloved  friend,  for  God's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  own 
admirable  character,  rouse  yourself  and  do  not  sink 
under  passion  and  disappointment,  like  a  common, 
weak-minded  woman !  You  are  now  called  upon  to 
act. — Can  you  bear  it  should  be  said  of  you,  that  your 
Mind  is  wholly  overset,  and  submit  to  be  pitied,  where 
you  ought  to  be  admired?  Do  not  so  disappoint  all  my 
Hopes,  or  lower  the  standard  of  your  own  glorious 
character  !  You  cannot,  certainly  cannot,  for  one 
moment  lament  the  Event,  tho'  you  must  lament  your 
disappointment  in  the  Man.  They  must  be  totally 
distinct  sensations  in  a  Mind  clear  and  discriminating, 
like  yours.  Passion  might  confound  them  in  a  weak, 
silly  Woman,  but  you  cannot. — You  have  acted  rightly. 
— You  have  acted  happily! — Had  he  succeeded  and 
in  a  moment  worked  up  by  Passion  persuaded  you  to 
become  his  wife  before  he  went  to  Gibraltar,  what 
would  now  have  been  your  situation  ?  He  has  proved 
himself  too  indisputably  heartless,  ungrateful,  ungenerous  ! 
What  more  is  necessary  for  your  utter  misery  ?  Oh,  that 
I  could  be  with  you  !  I  fear  Mrs.  Darner's  too  mild  and 
easy  nature,  which  always  feels  its  inferiority  to  the 
object  of  her  love.  You  must  apply  to  the  energies  of 
your  own  character.  If  you  resist  you  will  surely 
conquer ;  but  alas,  if  you  yield,  if  heart  and  temper 
once  conquer  Reason  and  Judgment,  your  defeat  is 
lamentable,  and  I  fear  will  be  too  permanent.  You  have 
much  left  you — Friends,  such  as  few  possess — indeed, 
indeed,  few  human  beings  can  boast,  I  believe,  three 
such  Hearts  devoted  to  them  as  poor  Agnes's,  Mrs. 
D[amer]'s  and  my  own. — You  ought  to  feel  in  all  your 
distress  that  these  old,  steady  friends  remain  to  you,  true, 
tried  Hearts. — Such  was  not  that  you  have  lost,  and 
which  has  shown   itself  thoroughly   unworthy   such  a 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      193 

creature  as  yourself.  Adieu,  Adieu. — The  door  bell 
rings  and  I  must  receive  whoever  it  is. — It  was  Sir  G. 
Wombwell  and  Lord  Ch.  Bellasyse. — He  is  a  fine, 
dashing  Genius,  a  true  character  of  the  Age. 

God  in  Heaven  bless  you,  and  pray  write  me  a  line 
of  comfort.  Do  remember  me  most  kindly  to  Mrs. 
Dfamer].1 

The  breaking  off  of  her  engagement  to  General 
O'Hara  left  Miss  Berry  a  very  sad  woman  ;  and  when 
her  friends,  seeking  to  alleviate  her  distress,  blamed  her 
false  lover,  she  warmly  defended  him.  "  I  still  believe," 
she  wrote  to  one  of  these  well-meaning  souls,  "that  had 
this  separation  never  taken  place,  I  should  never  have 
had  to  complain  of  him,  nor  he  to  doubt  me."  In  this 
opinion  she  never  wavered,  nor  did  she  ever  forget  O'Hara. 
*  This  place  and  everything  about  it  recall,  in  the  most 
lively  manner,  scenes  and  recollections  to  my  mind, 
which,  though  melancholy,  I  cannot  call  unpleasing," 
she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Damer  in  August  1798  from  Chelten- 
ham, where  three  years  earlier  she  and  O'Hara  had  been 
at  the  same  time.  "They  are,  thank  Heaven,  unembittered 
by  reproach,  and  undisgraced  by  folly.  My  imagination 
seems  to  pass  over  everything  that  has  happened  since, 
and  to  bring  me  back  to  the  calm  but  lively  enjoyment 
of  a  society  in  which  I  delight." 2  There  are  other 
references  in  the  Journals  to  the  incident.  "  After  tea, 
Mr.  Greathead,  at  my  request,  read  to  us  his  translation 
in  verse  of  Boccaccio's  Lisabetta  and  her  Brothers"  she 
noted  in  1807,  when  staying  at  Guy's  Cliff.  "I  had 
heard  it  once  before,  eleven  years  ago,  at  their  house  in 
Bryanstone  Street,  on  an  evening  memorable  to  me, 
for  it  was  that  on  which  I  had  at  last  relieved  my  own 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f.  245.  a  Journals,  ii.  70. 

N 


i94  BERRY    PAPERS 

mind  and  scruples,  by  confiding  to  my  second  father, 
Lord  Orford,  that  in  a  few  months,  as  I  then  thought,  I 
was  to  leave  him  for  a  still  dearer  friend  and  a  nearer 
connection,  and,  satisfied  with  having  acted  up  to  the 
most  scrupulous,  the  most  romantic  ideas  of  the  duties 
of  friendship,  I  was  indulging  myself  in  all  the  rational 
hopes  and  fair  prospects  which  seemed  then  to  open  to 
my  still  enthusiastic  mind.  Alas  !  alas !  all  too  soon 
cruelly  crushed,  and  since  levelled  with  the  dust."1 
Miss  Perry  in  her  Reminiscences  has  stated  that  Miss 
Berry,  towards  the  end  of  her  life,  **  one  evening  re- 
counted the  sad  story  of  her  engagement,  so  long  ago  in 
time,  but  fresh  in  her  memory  as  if  it  were  the  tale  of 
yesterday.  She  described  her  last  interview  with  this 
fine-looking  soldier,  in  the  prime  of  his  life,  with  such 
graphic  power,  that  his  image  seemed  standing  before  us." 
Some  years  after  the  engagement  was  broken,  she  sealed 
up  the  correspondence.  After  eight-and-forty  years, 
when  she  had  passed  the  age  of  fourscore,  she  opened 
the  packet,  and  inserted  the  following  sad  note  : 

"This  parcel  of  letters  relate  to  the  six  happiest 
months  of  my  long  and  insignificant  existence,  although 
these  six  months  were  accompanied  by  fatiguing  and 
unavoidable  uncertainty,  and  by  the  absence  of  every 
thing  that  could  constitute  present  enjoyment.  But  I 
looked  forward  to  a  future  existence  which  I  felt  for  the 
first  time  would  have  called  out  all  the  powers  of  my 
mind  and  all  the  warmest  feelings  of  my  heart,  and 
should  have  been  supported  by  one  who  but  for  the 
cruel  absence  which  separated  us,  would  never  have  for 
a  moment  doubted  that  we  should  have  materially  con- 
tributed  to   each   other's   happiness.    These   prospects 

1  fouma/s,  ii.  320. 


THE    LOVE-STORY    OF    MARY    BERRY      195 

served  even  to  pass  cheerfully  a  long  winter  of  delays 
and  uncertainty,  by  keeping  my  mind  firmly  riveted  on 
their  accomplishment.  A  concatenation  of  unfortunate 
circumstances — the  political  state  of  Europe  making 
absence  a  necessity,  and  even  frequent  communication 
impossible ;  letters  lost  and  delayed,  all  certainty  of 
meeting  more  difficult,  questions  unanswered,  doubts 
unsatisfied, — all  these  circumstances  combined  in  the 
most  unlucky  manner,  crushed  the  fair  fabric  of  my 
happiness,  not  at  one  fell  swoop,  but  by  the  slow  mining 
misery  of  loss  of  confidence,  of  unmerited  complaints, 
of  finding  by  degrees  misunderstandings,  and  the  firm 
rock  of  mutual  confidence  crumbling  under  my  feet, 
while  my  bosom  for  long  could  not  banish  a  hope  that 
all  might  yet  be  set  right.  And  so  it  would,  had  we 
ever  met  for  twenty-four  hours.  But  he  remained  at 
his  government  at  Gibraltar  till  his  death,  in  1802.  And 
I,  forty-two  years  afterwards,  on  opening  these  papers 
which  had  been  sealed  up  ever  since,  receive  the  con- 
viction that  some  feelings  in  some  minds  are  indelible." 


SECTION   V 

THE  BERRYS  AT   HOME  AND  ON  THE  CONTINENT 
1797-1803 

The  death  of  Mrs.  Darner's  half-sister,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond — Horace 
Walpole's  illness  and  death — Mary  Berry's  account  of  his  last  days — His 
will — Mary  Berry  edits  his  collected  works — The  Berrys  and  Mrs.  Damer 
in  1798-9 — The  Hon.  Caroline  Howe — She  is  mentioned  in  Walpole's 
Letters — An  appreciation  of  her  by  Mary  Berry — At  Strawberry  Hill — 
Mrs.  Darner's  private  theatricals — The  production  by  amateurs  of  Mary 
Berry's  comedy,  Fashionable  Friends — The  cast — Joanna  Baillie — The 
play  well  received — The  author  determines  to  secure  a  public  representa- 
tion— The  second  Viscount  Palmerston — The  Peace  of  Amiens — Mary 
Berry  and  Mrs.  Damer  visit  Paris — Berthier,  Cambaceres,  Macdonald, 
Fouche\  Massena,  Mme.  Recamier,  Mme.  de  Stael,  &c. — Presented  to 
Madame  Buonaparte — Napoleon  Buonaparte — Fashionable  Friends  pro- 
duced at  Drury  Lane — The  Berrys  go  abroad  in  October  1 802 — At  Nice 
— The  death  of  Caroline,  Lady  Aylesbury — Mme.  de  Staremberg — 
Amateur  theatricals  at  The  Priory — Correspondence  with  Lord  Hartington 
and  Mrs.  Damer — The  prospects  of  a  new  war — Death  of  the  Duke  of 
Bridgewater — His  will — Reported  death  of  "Old  Q." — Sir  William 
Hamilton's  estate — Bridgewater  House. 

THE  older  members  of  the  Berry  circle  began 
to  pass  away.  Conway  had  gone  in  July 
1796,  and  in  November  of  the  following  year 
Mrs.  Damer  suffered  another  bereavement 
through  the  death  of  her  half-sister,  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond.  Horace  Walpole,  who  had  long  been  ailing, 
had  now  entered  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
"Lord  Orford,"  Mrs.  Damer  wrote  to  Lady  Ossory, 
November  6, 1796,  "was  struck  last  Thursday  night  by  the 
intense  cold,  which  first  flung  him  into  a  violent  vomiting, 

and  then  gave  him  great  pain  in  both  legs,  which  turned 

196 


MARY   BERRY 
From  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  BroadUy,  Esq. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     197 

into  an  inflammation  the  next  day  in  the  right  leg,  and 
seemed  tending  to  an  abscess  like  that  he  had  in  the 
other  leg  last  year.  In  this  state  he  was  brought  to 
town  on  Friday  last,  with  scarce  the  sound  of  a  voice, 
and  where  he  is  now  lying  on  a  couch  in  a  state  of 
weakness  and  age,  that  keeps  him  from  seeing  anybody, 
and  makes  him  incapable  of  conversing  on  any  subjects, 
public  or  private."1  Walpole  recovered  partially  from 
this  attack,  but  he  never  regained  his  strength.  Very 
soon  after  the  date  of  this  letter  (December  15),  Mary 
Berry  has  written,  describing  her  kind  friend's  last  days, 
"  the  gout,  the  attacks  of  which  were  every  day  becoming 
more  frequent  and  longer,  made  those  with  whom  Lord 
Orford  had  been  living  at  Strawberry  Hill  very  anxious 
that  he  should  return  to  Berkeley  Square,  to  be  nearer 
assistance  in  case  of  any  sudden  seizure.  As  his  corre- 
spondents, soon  after  his  removal,  were  likewise  estab- 
lished in  London,  no  more  letters  passed  between  them. 
When  not  immediately  suffering  from  pain,  his  mind 
was  tranquil  and  cheerful.  He  was  still  capable  of  being 
amused,  and  of  taking  some  part  in  conversation ;  but 
during  the  last  weeks  of  his  life,  when  fever  was  super- 
added to  his  other  ills,  his  mind  became  subject  to  the 
cruel  hallucination  of  supposing  himself  neglected  and 
abandoned  by  the  only  persons  to  whom  his  memory 
clung,  and  whom  he  always  desired  to  see.  In  vain 
they  recalled  to  his  recollection  how  recently  they  had 
left  him,  and  how  short  had  been  their  absence ;  it 
satisfied  him  for  the  moment,  but  the  same  idea  recurred 
as  soon  as  he  had  lost  sight  of  them.  At  last  nature, 
sinking  under  the  exhaustion  of  weakness,  obliterated 
all   ideas  but   those   of   mere   existence,   which   ended 

1  Walpole,  Letters  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  474. 


198  BERRY    PAPERS 

without  a  struggle,  on  the  2nd  of  March,  1797."  Thus 
he  passed  away  in  his  eightieth  year.  He  left  to  each  of 
the  sisters  the  sum  of  ^4000,  and  to  them  jointly,  for  their 
lives,  the  house  and  grounds  and  furniture  of  Little  Straw- 
berry Hill.  To  Robert  Berry  and  his  daughters  he  be- 
queathed his  printed  works  and  manuscripts  with  discre- 
tionary power  to  publish,  with  directions  that  Mr.  Berry 
should  be  the  editor,  and  the  proceeds  divided  "  share  and 
share  alike."  In  making  Mrs.  Darner  his  executrix  and 
her  father  his  editor,  "Lord  Orford,"  Mary  Berry  wrote 
to  a  friend,  "  caused  his  papers  being  secured  to  her  eye 
and  mine,  and  made  me  his  editor  without  the  necessary 
publicity  attached  to  the  name."  To  Mrs.  Damer  Straw- 
berry Hill  passed  for  life,  with  an  income  of  ^2000  a  year.1 

In  accordance  with  Walpole's  wish,  Mary  Berry  set 
to  work  to  prepare  a  collected  edition  of  his  works,  and 
she  was  engaged  on  this  task  for  twelve  months.  The 
result  of  this  labour — for  it  was  all  her  doing,  save  a 
passage  having  reference  to  herself  in  the  preface,  which 
was  written  by  her  father — was  the  edition  of  1798, 
published  in  five  quarto  volumes. 

The  entry  in  Mary  Berry's  memorandum  book  for 
1798  runs  :  "  Mrs.  D[amer]  and  Lady  Aylesbury  settle  at 
Strawberry  Hill.  Become  acquainted  with  Mrs  Howe  "  ; 
and  that  for  the  following  year  is  scarcely  more  en- 
lightening :  "  Strawberry  let  to  the  [no  name  given]  at 
Twickenham.  We  go  to  Cheltenham  to  meet  the 
Douglases  and  Lady  Spencer.  Mrs.  Dfamer]  came 
to  meet  us  at  Malvern."  Mary  Berry  soon  became 
intimate  with  the  Hon.  Caroline  Howe,2  sister  of  Earl 

1  In  181 1  Mrs.  Damer  resigned  it  to  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Waldegrave, 
on  whom  the  remainder  in  fee  was  vested. 
*  The  Hon.  Caroline  Howe  (i  722-1814). 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT      199 

Howe,   and   the   widow   of  John    Howe,  of  Hanslope, 
Buckinghamshire.     Mrs.    Howe  has   honourable   men- 
tion in  the  pages  of  Horace  Walpole.     "  If  Lord  Howe 
has  disappointed  you,  will  you  not  accept  the  prowess 
of  the  virago  his  sister,  Mrs.  Howe,"  he  wrote  to  the 
Miss  Berrys,  December  13,  1793.     "As  soon  as  it  was 
known  that  her  brother  had  failed,1  a  Jacobin  mob  broke 
her   windows,   mistaking  them   for  his.     She  lifted  up 
the  sash,  and  harangued  them ;  told  them  that  was  not 
the  house  of  her  brother,  who  lives  in  the  other   part 
of  Grafton  Street,  and  that  she  herself  is  a  widow,  and 
that  that  house  is  hers.     She  stilled  the  waves,  and  they 
dispersed  quickly."  2     Mrs.  Howe  and  Miss  Berry  became 
regular  correspondents,  and  their  confidences  were  not 
interfered   with   by   the   difference   in   the    ages — Mrs. 
Howe   in    1799   being  seventy-eight    and    Mary    Berry 
thirty-six.     Mrs.  Howe  survived  until  June   1814,  thus 
passing  away  in  her  ninety-third  year.     "  She  possessed 
an  extraordinary  force   of   mind,   clearness   of   under- 
standing, and  remarkable  powers  of  thought  and  com- 
bination," Mary  Berry  wrote  appreciatively.     "  She  re- 
tained these  faculties  unimpaired  to  the  great  age  of 
eighty-five,  by  exercising  them  daily,  both  in  the  practice 
of  mathematics,  and  in  reading  the  two  dead  languages, 
of  which  late  in  life  she  had  made  herself  mistress.    To 
these   acquirements  must   be   added  warm  and  lively 
feelings,  joined  to  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and   of  the   society  of  which  she  had  always  been  a 
distinguished  member." 

The  following  letter  may  here  be  inserted  because  it 

1  At  this  time  Lord  Howe  was  in  command  of  the  Channel  Fleet,  and  it 
had  been  rumoured  that  he  had  captured  a  French  squadron. 
•  Walpole,  Letters  (ed.  Cunningham),  ix.  428. 


200  BERRY    PAPERS 

is  interesting  as  linking  up  the  Berrys  with  the  famous 
Blue-stocking  coterie  : — 


Agnes  Berry  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Montagu 

North  Audley  Street,  Wednesday  Evening  [circa  1 800]. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Montagu, — A  most  provoking  head- 
ache hinders  my  profiting  by  your  most  agreeable  invita- 
tion for  this  evening,  and  my  sister  has  not  yet  returned 
from  a  visit  she  has  been  making  in  the  country — but 
I  expect  her  home  to-morrow.  As  we  do  not  leave  Town 
until  Saturday  we  shall  certainly  endeavour  to  see  you 
before  you  go,  and  hope  that  you  will  fix  some  time  for 
indulging  us  with  your  company  at  Twickenham,  and 
believe  me  ever  most  truly  yours,       Agnes  Berry.1 

The  years  1800  and  1801  were,  so  far  as  the  Berrys 
were  concerned,  uneventful.  Much  of  their  time  was 
spent  at  Twickenham,  and  they  were  frequent  visitors  at 
Strawberry  Hill,  where  Mrs.  Darner  entertained  royally. 
A  feature  of  the  entertainments  at  Strawberry  Hill  were 
private  theatricals,  in  which  the  Berrys  usually  took 
part ;  and  there,  in  November  1801,  was  produced  Mary 
Berry's  comedy,  Fashionable  Friends,  with  prologue  and 
epilogue  by  Joanna  Baillie.2  The  following  amateurs 
took  part  in  the  performance  : 

Sir  Dudley  Dorimant    .        .        .  Lord  Mount  Edgcumbe 

Sir  Valentine  Vapour    .        .        .  Mr.  Berry 

Mr.  Lovell Mr.  Brownlow  North 

John Mr.  Campbell 

Lapieme Mr.  Burn 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 

*  Joanna  Baillie  (1762-1851),  the  author  of  many  plays  and  poems.  She 
had  not  long  since  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Berrys,  when  on  a  visit  to 
Mrs.  Darner  at  Strawberry  Hill. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     201 


Dr.  Syrop 

Lady  Selina  Vapour 

Mrs.  Lovell    . 

Mrs.  Rackett . 

Miss  Rackett 

Trimming 


Mr.  Mercer 

Honourable  Mrs.  Damer 
Miss  Berry 
Mrs.  Burn 
Miss  A.  Berry 
Lady  Elizabeth  Cole. 


Played  before  a  friendly  audience,  the  comedy  was 
well  received,  and  thus  encouraged,  the  author  deter- 
mined to  secure  a  public  representation  at  a  London 
theatre — with  what  result  will  presently  be  seen. 


Lord  Palmerston1  to  Mary  Berry 

Broadlands,  January  27,  1803. 

Accept  my  best  thanks,  dear  Miss  Berry,  for  your 
agreeable  letter,  which  revived  for  a  time  the  pleasure 
I  received  from  your  kind  visit,  which  will  be  long 
remembered  both  by  Lady  Palmerston  and  myself,  and 
the  early  Termination  of  which  neither  the  sweet  sounds 
of  Musick  nor  the  consolations  of  Quinota  have  made 
us  for  a  moment  cease  to  regret.  We  should  be  happy 
and  proud,  too,  if  we  could  flatter  ourselves  you  liked 
it  half  as  well  as  we  did,  and  we  anxiously  hope  to 
receive  the  only  proof  you  can  give  us  that  it  is  so, 
by  repeating  it  whenever  occasion  will  permit.  The 
Abrahams8  left  us  yesterday,  and  we  have  been  much 
pleased  with  having  them  here  ;  they  are  sensible,  and 
very  obliging,  and  their  musical  performances  uncom- 
monly excellent,  and  in  many  respects  unrival'd. 

1  Henry  Temple,  second  Viscount  Palmerston  (1739-1802),  the  author  of  a 
Diary  in  France  during  July  and  August  1791,  and  of  verses  contributed 
to  Lady  Miller's  Poetical  Amusements  at  a  Villa  near  Bath  and  The  New 
Foundling  Hospital  for  Wit.     He  died  on  April  16,  1802. 

*  (?)  Robert  Abraham  (1773-1850),  an  architect  employed  by  many  of  the 
leading  families  in  England. 


202  BERRY    PAPERS 

I  am  much  indebted  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have 
taken,  tho'  in  vain,  in  looking  for  the  Poetry  you  are  so 
good  as  to  intend  to  show  me.  I  trust  you  will  find  it 
at  some  moment  when  perhaps  you  do  not  expect  it, 
and  whenever  that  happens  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you 
for  a  sight  of  it.  In  the  mean  time,  let  me  thank  you 
for  what  you  have  sent  me.  I  was  much  pleased  with 
Miss  Bailey's  Epilogue1  when  I  heard  it  spoke,  and  I 
think  it  improves  on  reading  and  examination.  I  shall 
be  curious  to  read  her  new  publication,  and  sincerely 
hope  it  will  be  as  favourably  received  as  the  last ;  tho' 
I  dare  say  her  mind  is  too  strong  to  be  made  unhappy 
even  if  that  should  not  be  entirely  the  case.  An  Author 
of  Merit  who  appears  unexpectedly,  and  for  the  first 
time,  is  generally  received  with  Favour  and  Indulgence, 
but  I  have  often  observed  in  how  different  a  manner 
and  with  what  Fastidiousness  a  second  Publication  is 
treated  which  comes  forward,  perhaps  with  equal  or 
superior  claims,  to  meet  the  critical  jealousy  of  less 
successful  writers,  and  the  high-raised  expectations  of 
the  Public  at  large. 

I  am  sorry  to  find  that  Urania  is  not  more  suited  to 
the  public  taste.  I  have  seen  no  particular  account 
of  it,  but  I  always  dread  Allegories  and  Fairy  subjects, 
and  all  the  Personages  of  Mythology  when  brought 
seriously  on  the  stage  ;  in  burlesque  they  do  very  well. 
Neither  am  I  much  surprised  that  our  Friend's  Composi- 
tion should  succeed  better  in  private  than  on  the  Stage ; 
as  the  Ideas  which  I  have  seen  in  his  poetry  have 
generally  been  too  delicate  and  refined  for  the  gross 
atmosphere  of  a  playhouse,  where  Celestial  Beings  are 
not  thought  the  most  entertaining,  and  the  Goddesses 
that  succeed  best  are  neither  just  descended  from  Heaven 
nor  likely  to  return  there  immediately. 

I  have  seen  the  Prologue  to-day  in  the  papers ;  it  is 

1   Joanna    Baillie's    epilogue    to     Mary    Berry's    comedy,    Fashionable 
Friends. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON   THE    CONTINENT     203 

beautiful ;  which,  after  things  by  the  same  hand  which 
I  have  formerly  seen,  and  after  what  you  was  so  good  as 
to  show  me,  I  do  not  wonder  at. 

We  shall,  of  course,  be  very  glad  to  subscribe  to  the 
theatrical  Plan  in  agitation,  and  particularly  happy  to 
be  on  Mrs.  Darner's  list.  I  heartily  wish  it  may  go  on, 
tho'  for  the  reason  you  mention  and  from  some  experi- 
ence of  projects  of  such  a  nature,  I  have  my  apprehen- 
sions. I  should  be  surprised  that  the  Lawyers  had 
raised  any  doubts  about  the  Legality  of  it,  if  I  did  not 
know  that  a  Lawyer's  Business  is  to  raise  doubts.  I 
remember  Lord  Kenyon,1  when  an  humble  and  almost 
unknown  Barrister,  attending  before  Justice  Fielding2 
as  Council  for  the  Opera  House  against  Mrs.  Cornelys,3 
who  had  established  a  little  Theatre  for  Operas  to  which 
all  the  first  Company  of  London  bad  subscribed,  and 
none  but  Subscribers'  Tickets  were  admitted.  The  Law 
then  laid  down  by  the  present  Chief  Justice,  and  acted 
upon  by  the  Magistrate,  was  that  every  theatrical  per- 
formance, however  it  might  be  attempted  to  be  cover'd 
under  the  name  of  private  subscription,  came  within 
the  Purview  of  the  Statute  if  it  was  actually  and  bona 
fide  performed  for  Gain,  Hire,  or  Reward,  and  that  that 
was  the  real  fact  to  be  proved  on  which  the  issue  of 
the  case  must  wholly  depend.  This,  tho'  perfectly  ap- 
plicable to  a  Subscription  Opera  by  hired  performers, 
could  never,  I  should  have  imagined,  have  any  relation 
to  the  present  case. 

Enough  of  Law,  which  perhaps  you  will  wonder,  as 
I  do,  how  I  should  have  thought  of  meddling  with ;  but 
I  own  I  think  it  not  a  very  pleasant  circumstance  for 

1  Lloyd  Kenyon,  first  Baron  Kenyon  (1732-1802),  Lord  Chief  Justice. 
He  died  on  April  4  of  this  year. 

*  Sir  John  Fielding  (died  1780)  succeeded  his  half-brother,  Henry 
Fielding,  the  novelist,  as  magistrate  at  Bow  Street. 

8  Theresa  Cornelys  0723-1797).  famous  for  her  "Assemblies"  at 
Carlisle  House,  Soho  Square. 


2  04  BERRY    PAPERS 

the  persons  concerned  in  this  undertaking  to  carry  it  on 
under  the  good  pleasure  and  permission  of  the  managers 
of  the  Theatres  and  above  all  when  those  managers  can 
only  speak  for  themselves  as  Individuals,  it  being  com- 
petent to  every  person  in  the  Kingdom  to  prosecute 
the  Performers  as  Vagrants,  if  they  please,  if  the  case 
will  really  bear  such  a  Prosecution  out,  which  I  can 
hardly  believe. 

Before  I  finish  this  letter,  long  as  it  may  appear,  I 
must  say  that  I  feel  most  sensibly  the  kindness  of  the 
concluding  part  of  yours,  and  thoroughly  understand 
the  value  of  the  Distinction  it  establishes.  There  is 
none  I  can  obtain  more  gratifying  to  me  than  a  place 
in  your  Friendship.  My  best  pretensions  to  it  are  that 
I  know  how  to  appreciate  a  character  like  yours,  and 
that  none  of  your  numerous  Friends  can  exceed  me  in 
the  warmth  and  sincerity  of  those  sentiments  of  true 
esteem  and  affectionate  attachment  with  which  I  am 
proud  to  subscribe  myself,  dear  Miss  Berry,  Your  much 
obliged  and  grateful,  humble  servant, 

Palmerston. 

Pray  remember  me  most  kindly  to  Miss  Agnes  and 
likewise  to  Mr.  Berry.1 


The  war  with  France  had  for  a  long  time  closed 
that  country  to  the  English,  but  after  the  preliminaries 
of  peace  were  signed,  in  October  1801,  a  stream  of 
visitors  crossed  the  Channel.  Early  in  the  next  year 
Mary  Berry,  perhaps  in  the  hope  of  dispelling  the 
depression  into  which  she  had  been  plunged  in  February 
by  the  death  of  General  O'Hara,  bethought  herself  of 
going  to  Paris,  and  on  March  8  she  and  Mrs.  Darner 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  18. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT      205 

set  out  from  London  for  that  city,  where  they  arrived 
six  days  later,  and  took  apartments  at  the  Hotel  de 
l'Empire,  in  the  Rue  Cerutti.  They  "did"  the  usual 
sights,  went  to  the  milliners'  and  the  theatres,  and  met 
most  of  the  people  who  were  anybody.  They  frater- 
nised with  the  other  English  folk  at  Paris,  and  among 
these  were  Lord  Cowper,1  Lord  Henry  Petty,2  the 
Marquis  of  Douglas,3  Henry  Luttrell ; 4  and  they  also 
moved  in  French  circles,  and  visited  both  royalists 
and  republicans.  Mary  Berry  gives  a  full  account  in 
her  Journals  of  this  visit,  and  from  this  we  learn 
that  they  met,  among  others,  Berthier,5  Cambaceres,6 
Macdonald,7    Fouche>8   Le   Brun,9   the   Marquis    de    la 

x  Peter  Leopold  Louis  Francis  Nassau,  fifth  Earl  Cowper  (1778-1837). 

2  Lord  Henry  Petty- Fitzmaurice,  third  son  of  William,  first  Marquis  of 
Lansdowne.  In  1809  he  succeeded  his  eldest  brother  as  third  Marquis. 
He  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in  1 806  under  Grenville,  and  later  held 
other  high  ministerial  offices. 

3  Alexander,  Marquis  of  Douglas  (1 767-1 852),  the  eldest  son  of  the  ninth 
Duke  of  Hamilton.  He  succeeded  to  the  dukedom  in  1819.  He  married  in 
1 8 10  Susan  Euphemia,  daughter  of  William  Beckford,  of  Fonthill,  author  of 
Vathek. 

•  Henry  Luttrell  (1765?-! 851),  a  natural  son  of  Henry  Lawes  Luttrell, 
second  Earl  of  Carhampton.  He  was  a  popular  man  about  town,  and 
distinguished  for  his  wit.  He  was  the  author  of  Advice  to  Julia  (1820)  and 
Crockford  House  (1827). 

6  Louis  Alexandre  Berthier  (1753-1815),  Minister  of  War  since  1799. 
In  1804  Napoleon  created  him  a  Marshal  of  France,  in  1806  Prince  de 
Neufchatel,  and  later  Prince  of  Wagram. 

•  Jean-Jacques  Regis  de  Cambaceres  (1783- 1824)  was  elected  Second 
Consul  when  Napoleon  became  First  Consul.  At  Wagram  he  was  created  by 
the  Emperor  a  Marshal  of  France,  and  in  1808  Duke  of  Parma. 

7  Etienne  Jacques  Joseph  Alexandre  Macdonald  (1 766-1840),  a  distin- 
guished soldier.  Napoleon  gave  him  his  marshal's  baton  after  Wagram,  and 
in  1 8 10  created  him  Duke  of  Tarentum. 

8  Joseph  Fouch^  (1763-1820),  the  famous  Minister  of  Police  and  of  the 
Interior.     In  1809  he  was  created  Duke  of  Otranto. 

•  Charles  Francois  le  Brun  (1739-1824),  appointed  Third  Consul  of  France 
in  1799.     In  1805  he  was  raised  to  the  peerage  as  Duke  of  Placentia. 


206  BERRY    PAPERS 

Fayette,1  Mass^na,2  Moreau,3  La  Place,4  and  Madame 
Recamier,  and  renewed  acquaintance  with  Madame 
de  Stael.6  Madame  Buonaparte  received  them,  and  at 
last  came  the  day  when  they  saw  the  great  Napoleon 
himself.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  military  parade 
of  April  5,  which  they  witnessed  from  a  window  in  the 
Tuileries.  "  Buonaparte  mounted  his  horse  (a  light- 
coloured  dun  with  a  white  mane  and  tail)  before  one 
o'clock,  at  the  great  central  door  of  the  Palace,  accom- 
panied by  the  generals  of  the  different  divisions  of 
infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery  ;  they  then  rode  along 
the  line,  so  that  Buonaparte  twice  passed  our  window, 
once  near  enough  to  see  what  one  can  see  of  a  man 
on  horseback  gently  trotting  by  with  his  head  much 
enfonce  in  his  hat."  Miss  Berry  has  recorded  :  u  I  saw 
enough  to  convince  me  he  is  not  much  like  his  busts. 
But  all  I  saw  was  a  little  man,  remarkably  well  on 
horseback,  with  a  sallow  complexion,  a  highish  nose, 
a  very  serious  countenance,  and  cropped  hair.  He 
wore  the  dress  of  some  infantry  regiment,  blue,  with  a 
plain  broad  white  lappel  and  a  plain  hat  with  the  very 
smallest  of  national  cockades  in  it.  After  riding  along 
each   of  the  four  lines,  he  and  his  attendant  generals 

1  Marie  Jean  Motier,  Marquis  de  la  Fayette  (i  757-1834),  who  fought 
against  the  English  in  the  American  War  of  Independence. 

'  Andre"  Masse"na  (1758-1817),  one  of  the  greatest  of  Napoleon's  marshals. 
He  was  given  the  titles  of  Prince  of  Essling  and  Duke  of  Rivoli. 

*  Jean  Victor  Moreau  (1763-1813),  the  victor  of  Hohenlinden.  He  was 
banished  from  France  in  1804  for  being  implicated  in  a  royalist  conspiracy. 
Nine  years  later  he  served  with  the  Allies  against  his  own  country,  but  was 
wounded  in  August,  and  died  shortly  after. 

*  Pierre  Simon  la  Place  (1749- 1827),  mathematician  and  astronomer,  was 
in  1799  Minister  of  the  Interior  under  Napoleon.  He  was  created  a  count  by 
the  Emperor,  and  after  the  Restoration  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  marquis. 

4  Mary  Berry  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Madame  de  Stael,  then  Mdlle. 
Necker,  at  Lausanne  in  1784. 


MADAMK    DK   STAKL 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     207 

placed  themselves  beyond  the  second  line,  exactly 
opposite  our  window,  when  all  the  troops — first  infantry, 
then  cavalry,  and  then  artillery — marched  before  him 
with  their  music  playing  and  colours  flying ;  none  of 
the  officers  saluted  but  the  colonel.  After  passing 
Buonaparte  they  filed  off,  and  when  the  last  had  passed, 
he  came  again  to  the  same  door  of  the  Tuileries,  dis- 
mounted, and  disappeared.  This  is  all  that  those  who 
best  see  the  parade  can  see  of  the  mover  of  the  whole 
machine."  A  few  days  later  they  were  invited  to  a 
reception  at  the  Tuileries,  and  were  presented  to  the 
First  Consul,  who  exchanged  a  few  words  with  each  of 
them  as  he  walked  round  the  semi-circle  formed  by  his 
guests.  "  Buonaparte  himself  .  .  .  was  in  his  undress 
Consular  uniform,  but  with  silk  stockings  and  small 
buckles."  Mary  Berry  described  his  appearance  : — "  His 
hair  is  very  dark,  and  cropped  much  shorter  than  it 
appears  on  any  of  his  busts,  and  it  does  not  lie  well  or 
smoothly  upon  his  head.  He  by  no  means  struck  me  as 
so  little  as  I  had  heard  him  represented,  but  as,  indeed,  he 
appeared  on  horseback.  His  shoulders  are  broad,  which 
gives  his  figure  importance.  His  complexion,  though  pale 
and  yellow,  has  not  the  appearance  of  ill-health.  His 
teeth  are  good,  and  his  mouth,  when  speaking,  as  I  saw 
him,  in  good  humour,  has  a  remarkable  and  uncommon 
expression  of  sweetness.  Indeed,  his  whole  countenance, 
as  I  saw  him  in  this  circle,  was  more  that  of  complacence 
and  quiet  intelligence  than  of  any  decided  penetration 
and  strong  expression  whatsoever.  The  Man  of  the 
Parade  and  the  Man  of  the  Circle  has  left  a  totally 
different  impression  on  my  mind,  and  I  can  hardly 
make  the  two  countenances  (one  of  which  I  saw  so 
imperfectly)  belong  to  the  same  person.     His  eyes  are 


208  BERRY    PAPERS 

light  grey,  and  he  looks  full  in  the  face  of  the  person 
to  whom  he  speaks.  To  me  always  a  good  sign.  Yet 
after  all  I  have  said  of  the  sweetness  of  his  countenance, 
I  can  readily  believe  what  is  said,  that  it  is  terrible  and 
fire-darting  when  angry,  or  greatly  moved  by  any 
cause." 

The  travellers  arrived  in  London  on  April  18,  and  in 
the  following  month  Mary  Berry's  play,  Fashionable 
Friends,  was  produced  anonymously  at  Drury  Lane. 
Though  presented  by  an  excellent  cast,  including  Charles 
Kemble,  King,  Barrymore,  and  Maddocks,  Miss  Du 
Camp  (afterwards  Mrs.  Charles  Kemble),  Mrs.  Young, 
Miss  Pope,  and  Mrs.  Jordan,  it  proved  to  have  no 
attraction  for  the  public,  and  after  a  run  of  three  nights 
was  withdrawn,  to  the  bitter  disappointment  of  the 
author  and  her  friends.  According  to  more  than  one 
authority,  its  principal  defect  was  its  lax  morality.  Mary 
Berry  printed  it  in  1803,  with  the  following  "Advertise- 
ment" :  "This  comedy,  found  among  the  papers  of  the 
late  Earl  of  Orford,  and  remaining  unclaimed  in  the 
hands  of  his  executors  for  two  years,  was  brought 
forward  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Kemble  on  the  Theatre 
Royal,  Drury  Lane.  After  the  extraordinary  abuse  that 
has  been  lavished  upon  it,  the  executors  considered  it  as 
a  duty  to  the  unknown  author  to  publish  it."  While 
there  was  no  reason  why  Mary  Berry  should  avow  the 
authorship  of  the  play,  it  seems  extraordinary  that  she 
should  have  dragged  in  the  name  of  Horace  Walpole.1 

1  Another  dramatic  work,  written  by  Mary  Berry,  a  rarce  called  TAe 
Martins,  set  down  in  a  manuscript  list  of  her  writings,  was  never  played  or 
published. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     209 
The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

August  7,  1802. 

Do  not  tell  me  of  dull  epistles,  my  dear  Miss  Berry  ! 
I  never  can  receive  one  more  to  my  taste  and  way 
of  thinking  than  is  that  you  have  been  so  good  and 
kind  [as]  to  send  me  ;  in  every  respect  it  would  have 
been  completely  agreeable,  had  it  brought  me  a  better 
account  of  your  health  and  spirits,  though  that  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  from  such  a  short  trial  of  the 
water,  and  indeed  sometimes  the  benefit  derived  from 
this  kind  of  remedy  is  not  felt  till  after  it  has  been 
left  off ;  at  all  events,  I  trust  the  air  and  pleasant 
exercise  you  are  engaged  in  will  strengthen  your  nerves 
and  restore  your  noble  mind  to  its  full  power. 

I  heard  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  *  yesterday  ;  he 
is  certainly  better,  and  has  consented  and  settled  to  go 
to  Eastbourne ;  he  would  not  hear  of  Spa,  though 
greatly  recommended  to  him  by  Sir  Walter  Farquhar.2 

The  Dowager  Lady  Spencer  is  at  Holywell ;  by 
her  last  Letter  she  does  not  seem  to  have  much  hopes 
of  seeing  you  there.  I  believe  she  will  not  move  from 
thence  for  some  time. 

How  could  you  have  such  an  opinion  of  me  as  to 
suppose  for  a  moment  I  could  forget  any  incident  in 
Gramont  ?  I  have  been  much  engaged  since  I  saw 
you  in  reading  a  very  different  kind  of  work,  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  history  of  our  colony  in  New  South 
Wales,  now  brought  down  to  August  1801.  It  has 
been  amusing  to  me,  for  I  have  interested  myself  in  its 
goings  on  ever  since  the  first  settlement  there. 

I  have  still  constant  evening  parties,  and  have  not 
moved  from  my  chair  for  many  past  days,  till  I  go  to 

1  William,  fifth  Duke  of  Devonshire  (1748-1811). 

2  Sir  Walter  Farquhar  (1738-1819),  physician  in  ordinary  to  the  King. 

O 


210  BERRY    PAPERS 

make  one  in  them.  At  present  they  have  never  con- 
sisted of  fewer  than  three  tables,  but  seem  to  be  now  so 
crumbling  away  bit  by  bit  that  I  expect  they  will  soon 
be  reduced  to  one.  However,  as  that  one  will  last  to 
the  end  of  this  month,  my  purpose  will  be  answered. 

I  have  been  two  or  three  times  interrupted,  and 
having  another  letter,  an  indispensable  one,  to  write, 
I  must  only  add  my  love  to  Agnes  and  entreat  the 
continuance  of  your  partiality  and  notice.  You  can 
never  bestow  it  on  one,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  to  whom 
it  can  be  more  precious  than  to  your  obliged  and 
faithful 

Caroline  Howe.1 

Mary  Berry  being  far  from  well  in  the  autumn, 
she,  with  her  father  and  sister,  left  England  on  October 
26,  for  Nice,  where  they  arrived  on  December  9,  and 
settled  down  in  a  house  which  they  rented  until  May  1, 
for  ninety  pounds,  from  General  Morgan. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

November  7,  1802. 

I  intend  this,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  shall  be  the  first 
greeting  that  presents  itself  to  you  on  your  arrival  at 
Nice,  where  I  hope  you  will  soon  be,  and  find  yourself 
improved  by  the  constant  change  of  air,  instead  of 
feeling  the  fatigue  of  such  a  long  journey.  Mrs. 
Darner's  kind  attention  in  acquainting  me  of  your  being 
safe  at  Calais  flattered  me  very  much :  her  note  was 
from  Strawberry  Hill,  and  she  promises  me  the  Journal 
when  she  returns,  and  I  am  impatiently  waiting  for  it. 
I  wrote  to  Lady  Spencer  the  day  you  left  me  (the  25th 
of  October),  made  all  the  proper  acknowledgements 
from  you  and  such  say,  as  you  bid  me  add,  in  return 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  28. 


AT   HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     211 

for  her  gratifying  Letter ;  and  then  I  roved  along  a 
parcel  of  lines  about  you,  which  she  has  since  answered 
very  much  to  my  mind,  nor  was  Agnes  forgot  in  my 
rhapsody.  By  the  bye,  were  I  not  much  pleased  with 
her  and  gratified  by  the  kind  of  notice  she  takes  of  me, 
I  could  never  have  thought  of  taking  such  a  liberty, 
and  I  trust  she  sees  it  in  that  light. 

I  have  been  interrupted  more  than  half  a  dozen  times 
since  I  began  this,  and  now  it  is  so  late  that  I  must  soon 
adjourn  till  to-morrow.  One  of  my  visitors  was  Miss 
Trimmer,1  who  desired  me  to  name  her  to  you  and  to 
say  she  was  very  sorry  to  have  missed  seeing  you  before 
you  left  England.  Lady  George  Morpeth's 2  little  boy 
was  to  have  undergone  the  trifling  operation  of  taking 
off  the  wart  he  was  born  with  to-morrow,  and  I  had 
hoped  I  might  have  to  tell  you  it  was  all  well  over,  but  I 
understand  it  is  to  be  defer'd  for  a  few  days,  Lord 
Morpeth  having  gone  into  the  country,  I  did  not  hear 
whither. 

Monday,  November  &th. — General  Andreossi 3  went  in 
proper  time  on  Saturday  to  Lord  Hawkesbury4  and 
afterwards  visited  the  two  under  Secretarys  of  State  in 
their  separate  apartments.     Do  you  know  Mr.  Crauf urd  ? 5 

1  Miss  Trimmer  was  a  daughter  of  Mrs.  Sarah  Trimmer  (1741-1810), 
the  author  of  children's  books  and  educational  works. 

2  Lady  Morpeth  (d.  1858),  the  wife  of  George  Howard,  Lord  Morpeth, 
afterwards  sixth  Earl  of  Carlisle  (1773-1848),  was  nie  Lady  Georgiana 
Dorothy  Cavendish,  eldest  daughter  and  eventual  co-heiress  of  William,  fifth 
Duke  of  Devonshire.  The  little  boy  was  George  William  Frederick  Howard, 
born  on  April  18,  1802,  afterwards  seventh  Earl  of  Carlisle. 

3  Count  Antoine  Francois  Andreossi  (1761-1828),  a  distinguished  soldier, 
was  after  the  Peace  of  Amiens  appointed  French  Ambassador  at  the  Court  of 
St.  James's. 

*  Robert  Banks  Jenkinson,  Lord  Hawkesbury  (1770- 1828),  eldest  son  of 
the  fifth  Earl  of  Liverpool,  was  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs  under 
Addington,  1801-3.  He  succeeded  to  the  earldom  in  1808,  and  was  Prime 
Minister  from  1812-27. 

8  James  Crauford,  of  Auchinames,  Renfrewshire,  commonly  called  "  Fish  " 
Crauford,  was  a  friend  of  Fox,  Walpole,  Hume,  and  Mme.  du  Deffand.  He 
spent  much  of  his  life  abroad,  but  died  in  London  in  1814. 


212  BERRY    PAPERS 

He  had  reached  Lyons  in  his  way  to  Nice,  and  was 
to  pass  the  winter  there  with  Mr.  Coborne,  his  intimate 
friend,  at  least,  so  much  so  that  the  latter,  since 
the  last  time  he  came  to  England,  dined  with  him 
nearly  every  day  till  he  returned  to  France  this  year ; 
he  was  detained  for  a  few  days  in  Paris,  and  appointed 
Lyons  where  he  was  to  wait  for  him.  The  account  of 
his  death  reached  Craufurd  at  the  moment  he  was 
expecting  to  see  him.  If  he  goes  on,  he  will  certainly 
fall  in  love  with  you ;  he  has  always  been  subject  to 
seizures  of  all  that  kind  whenever  he  has  met  with 
objects  like  you.  He  is  an  old  friend  of  mine  (not 
what  the  French  call  "  un  ami  ").  Pray  tell  him  I  desired 
you  to  notice  him  and  to  mention  him  as  to  both  health 
and  spirits,  when  you  write  to  me.  He  has  a  great 
regard  for  Lady  Douglas. — The  Duke  of  Devonshire 
keeps  in  health,  but  is  by  gentle  degrees  falling 
into  his  usual  hours,  dines  at  seven,  begins  his  whist 
about  ten  or  half  past,  sups  at  home,  and  retires  by  three. 
However  no  Brooks's  yet,  and  he  does  not  remain  in  bed 
after  two.  The  Dowager  Lady  Spencer  goes  from  Lord 
Cork's x  at  once  to  Althorp.  Do  you  know  what  a  hop, 
skip  and  jump  style  means?  If  not,  the  specimen  I 
send  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  kind.  If  you  choose  to 
have  more  of  it,  write  soon.  Remember  you  insisted 
absolutely  upon  hearing  from  me  myself,  and  allow  that 
I  have  obeyed  au  pied  de  la  lettre.  My  love  to  Agnes : 
do  not  forget  me,  and  believe  me  ever,  dear  Miss  Berry, 
gratefully  and  truly  yours,  Moi,  Moi,  Moi.2 

1  Edmund,  eighth  Earl  of  Cork  (i  767-1856).     He  had  succeeded  to  the 
earldom  on  the  death  of  his  father,  October  6,  1 798. 

2  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  30. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     213 

Lord  Harrington1  to  Mary  Berry 

Devonshire  House,  Monday,  December  20,  1802. 

Dear  Miss  Berry, — I  daresay  you  will  be  surprized 
and  disappointed  when  you  see  by  whom  this  letter  is 
written.  If  you  are,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  tear 
and  throw  it  into  the  fire.  If  not,  some  time,  when  you 
are  bored,  lightly  skim  over  it. — We  are  very  gay  here  : 
a  good  many  people  come  here  every  night.  Miss 
Lloyd  is  the  centre  of  the  system  and  the  planets  of  the 
Morpeths,  Melbournes,2  Clermonts,  and  a  great  many 
others  gradually  roll  round  her  at  the  whist  table. 
There  are  also  a  great  many  fixed  stars,  such  as  Mr. 
Adair,  the  Carlisles,3  Lady  George  Cavendish,4  &c,  and 
every  now  and  then  a  comet  appears,  viz.,  Monsieur 
Andreossi  or  Sir  Sidney  Smith.5  I  do  not  think  Andre- 
ossi  so  very  ugly,  as  I  had  heard  he  was  :  he  has  a  good 
natured  face  marked  a  little  with  the  small  pox.  The 
Besboroughs 6  set  off  for  Paris  about  a  week  ago.     They 

1  William  George  Spencer  Cavendish,  Lord  Harrington  (i  790-1 858), 
only  son  of  William  Cavendish,  fifth  Duke  of  Devonshire.  He  succeeded  to 
the  dukedom  in  18 11.  It  will  be  noted  that  now,  when  he  began  to  corre- 
spond with  Mary  Berry,  he  was  at  Harrow,  aged  twelve. 

2  Peniston,  first  Viscount  Melbourne  (1 748-18 19),  married  Elizabeth 
(1749-18 1 8),  only  daughter  of  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke,  Bart.,  of  Halnaby, 
Yorkshire.  Their  second  son,  William,  who  succeeded  to  the  title,  became 
Prime  Minister. 

3  Frederick  Howard,  fifth  Earl  of  Carlisle  (1748-1825),  the  friend  of 
Fox.  He  married  in  1770  Lady  Margaret  Caroline  Leveson-Gower  (d.  1824), 
daughter  of  Granville,  first  Marquis  of  Stafford. 

*  Lady  George  Cavendish  (d.  1835),  daughter  and  heiress  of  Charles, 
seventh  Earl  of  Northampton,  was  the  wife  of  Lord  George  Augustus  Henry 
Cavendish  (b.  1754),  third  son  of  William,  fourth  Duke  of  Devonshire.  Lord 
George  was  in  183 1  created  Earl  of  Burlington. 

6  Admiral  Sir  William  Sidney  Smith  (1764-18*40),  the  hero  of  St.  Jean 
d'Acre. 

•  Frederick  Ponsonby,  third  Earl  of  Bessborough  (1758- 1844),  had 
married  in  1780  Lady  Henrietta  Frances  Spencer  (d.  1821),  second  daughter 
of  John,  first  Earl  Spencer. 


214  BERRY    PAPERS 

had  a  very  bad  passage  and  were  very  sick.  They  met 
Lord  Ossulston1  and  Lady  Charlotte  Greville2  at  Calais, 
who,  by  the  by,  come  here  every  night.  They  were 
searched  and  obliged  to  unpack  every  thing  at  Calais. 
Lady  Charlotte  is  delighted  with  Paris.  She  was  at  the 
Opera  the  other  night,  and  would  not  even  deign  to  look 
at  the  ballet.  There  is  a  new  singer,  or  rather  screamer 
here,  Signora  Gerbini :  she  acts  in  men's  clothes.  She 
is  frightful,  and  two  new  dancers,  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Coralli,  both  rather  good. 

The  Grammonts  set  off  for  Edinburgh  the  other  day. 
As  Corisande  got  into  the  inn  at  Bugden  she  was  very 
cold  and  ran  up  to  the  fire.  Her  gown  caught,  and  she 
was  in  flames  in  a  minute.  She  ran  about  the  room 
screaming,  and  Madame  de  Grammont  came  into  the 
room  and  threw  herself  upon  her.  They  both  fainted 
with  fright,  but  luckily  a  man  who  Mama  had  sent 
with  them  came  up  with  the  trunks  and  rolled  them 
both  in  the  carpet.  If  he  had  not  come  in  they  would 
certainly  have  been  both  burnt  to  death.  Madame 
de  Grammont's  arms  and  hands  are  burnt  very  much, 
and  Corise's  arms  and  hair  very  much  too.  She 
wrote  to  tell  us  they  are  now  at  Thores,  by  Lord 
Newark's  house.  Aglai,  her  sister,  is  here  too.  She 
has  a  very  good  figure,  but  her  face  is  ugly.  She 
sings  beautifully. 

I  suppose  you  know  that  Stephen  Kemble  3  has  been 
in  town  acting  Falstaff  very  well.  I  went  to  see  him  in 
his  benefit.  He  acted  Shylock  in  The  Merchant  of 
Venice :  he  did  it  very  well,  only  looked  too  fat.  He 
weighs  eight  and  twenty  stone.     After  the  play  he  spoke 

1  Eldest  son  of  the  Earl  of  Tankerville,  married  in  1 806  Mile.  Corisande 
de  Gramont. 

*  Lady  Charlotte  Greville,  wife  of  Charles  Greville,  and  daughter  of  the 
third  Duke  of  Portland. 

*  Stephen  Kemble  (1758-1822),  actor,  the  brother  of  Sarah  Siddons, 
manager  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre  1792- 1800. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     215 

some  verses  in  the  character  of  Falstaff  written  by 
himself  to  take  his  leave.  I  have  had  an  headache  ever 
since  with  the  noise  of  the  clapping. 

Caroline  (St.  Jules)  likes  Paris  very  much  :  she  is 
learning  to  dance.  She  was  at  a  ball  there,  and  was 
quite  ashamed,  for  every  body  danced  so  beautifully. 
Mama  has  got  one  of  her  bad  headaches  :  she  has  been 
in  bed  all  day.  Was  Paris  much  altered  from  when  you 
was  there  last  ?  I  suppose  you  have  found  a  great 
many  places  very  much  altered  since  the  revolution. 
How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  at  Nice  ?  I  came  from 
Harrow  a  fortnight  ago.  I  did  not  know  that  you  was 
gone  abroad,  and  went  to  North  Audley  Street,  and 
found  the  house  shut  up  and  the  knocker  off  the  door 
and  no  signs  of  any  thing  alive.  I  do  not  exactly  ask 
you  to  answer  this,  but  some  time,  when  you  have 
nothing  to  do,  write  a  line  or  two  to  shew  me  that  you 
have  not  quite  forgot  me,  and  believe  me  that  /  shall 
never  forget  the  impression  which  your  kindness  has 
always  given  me. 

Tuesday. — Mama's  headache  is  a  great  deal  better 
to-day.  I  suppose  you  know  that  my  cousin,  Willy 
Ponsonby,  did  not  like  being  a  sailor,  and  has  been 
ever  since  we  were  at  Ramsgate  with  a  clergyman  in 
Hertfordshire.  He  is  coming  here  to-day  to  spend  a 
few  days  before  he  goes  to  Althorp,  my  Uncle  Spencer's, 
for  the  holidays.  I  shall  be  very  glad,  for  I  am  very 
dull  here  as  Clifford  is  gone  to  the  West  Indies  and  my 
sister  (I  blush  to  say)  is  never  up  till  two  o'clock.  My 
nephew,  commonly  called  little  George,  is  growing 
beautiful.  He  had  the  mark  in  his  forehead  cut  out  a 
month  ago.  Poor  G.  was  in  a  terrible  fright.  He  bore 
it  very  well.  He  is  really  grown  quite  clever  :  he  pulls 
hair,  scratches  and  kicks  with  the  greatest  dexterity 
imaginable,  and  is  never  in  a  more  funning  humour  than 
when  he  is  going  to  be  dipped  in  his  tub  of  cold  water, 
which  amuses  him  extremely.     I   am  afraid   you   will 


216  BERRY    PAPERS 

think  that  I  begin  to  doat  already,  but  it  is  impossible 
to  know  him  without  loving  him. 

Goodby,    dear     Miss    Berry,  —  I     am     your     ever 
affectionate  Hartington. 

P.S. — Pray  give  my  love  to  your  sister.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

LONDON,  Saturday,  January  16,  1803. 

It  is  not  possible  for  me  to  express  to  you  what  I 
have  suffered  for  these  last  days.  At  my  poor  mother's 
age  the  sad  idea  of  losing  her2  must  frequently,  con- 
stantly almost,  have  occured  to  my  imagination,  accom- 
panied by  a  train  of  melancholy  reflections.  Unprepared, 
it  is  true,  therefore,  I  could  not  be.  But  the  scene  now 
before  me  is  rendered  doubly  distressing  by  my  dearest 
mother's  gentleness,  under  her  frequent  sufferings  and 
her  extreme  desire  for  life,  and  life,  alas  !  alas  !  I  too 
plainly  see,  cannot  long  be  granted  her.  I  do  not 
exactly  remember  what  I  said  to  you  ;  my  mind  has 
been  in  too  sad  a  state  of  anxiety  and  agitation,  from 
the  transition  from  hope  to  desponding,  which  the 
circumstance  of  my  mother's  disorder  unavoidably 
occasioned.  The  natural  and  still  evident  strength  of 
her  constitution  gave  at  first  the  greatest  hopes  of  being 
able  to  resist  the  evil,  and,  at  moments,  it  seemed  to  be 
such  as  she  might  conquer,  with  medical  assistance. 
The  stomachache,  in  a  state  tending  to  inflammation, 
was  relieved  by  the  bleeding,  but  the  grand  root  and 
cause  of  all  this  suffering  has  remained  fixed  and  un- 
movable,  baffling  every  mode  of  relief  attempted,  and 
that  is  a  load  of  accumulated  phlegm  which  oppresses 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  26. 

*  Lady  Aylesbury  died  on  January  1 7. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE   CONTINENT     217 

the  lungs,  fills  them  gradually  up  and  prevents  respira- 
tion. She  breathes  now  with  extreme  difficulty  and 
distress,  and  that  difficulty  and  distress  can  but  increase 
under  a  miracle.  The  weather  is  so  sadly  against  her. 
Oh  !  were  she  in  your  plain  of  Nice.  But  it  is  one  of 
these  despairing  black  dismal  frosts,  with  a  high  wind, 
that  now  and  then  indeed,  give  from  a  heavy  atmosphere 
the  hope  of  change,  and  then  it  resumes  its  chilling 
rigid  state.  Still  is  my  mother's  pulse  and  other  powers 
of  existence,  as  both  Sir  Walter  and  Chilvers  affirm,  such 
as  might  allow  this  dear  good  soul  years  of  existence, 
but  that  one  wheel,  so  he  calls  it,  is  nearly  stopped,  and 
little  if  any  hope  remains.  Last  night  even  was,  to 
appearance,  so  favourable  in  a  great  degree,  and  I  had 
gone  to  bed  at  about  one  o'clock,  having  sat  up  the  other 
nights  very  late  and  only  had  a  few  hours'  heavy  rest, 
Anne,  as  usual,  coming  up  and  giving  me  frequent  re- 
ports, when  at  about  seven  this  morning  she  was  alarmed 
by  my  mother's  throwing  herself  into  her  arms  and 
saying  she  was  dying.  Chilvers  (whom  I  have  near  in 
the  front  drawing-room)  was  instantly  called,  and 
afforded  what  assistance  could  be  given.  (I,  of  course, 
throwing  over  my  Spanish  cloak,  was  down  in  an 
instant.)  The  struggle  was  for  some  moments  severe, 
but  this  time  her  strength  still  conquered !  I  am 
interrupted  by  good  Hope,  whom  I  must  say  first  one 
word  to. 

Tuesday  Morning,  January  18. 

Your  mind  will  have  anticipated  what  must  be  the 
sequel  of  my  story  !  My  dearest,  kindest  of  mothers 
expired  yesterday  morning  without  a  groan,  without 
even  a  sigh.  Her  countenance  instantly  became  placid, 
and  her  fine  features  made  her  beautiful  in  death  !  Such 
I  am  convinced  can  be  the  end  only  of  one  possessing 
a  virtuous  mind  and  a  conscience  without  reproach, 
and  such  a  one,  I  am  proud  to  think,  was  my  mother ! 
A  scene  more  affecting,  more  impressive  than  her  end 


218  BERRY    PAPERS 

it  were  not  possible  to  see.  My  grief  is  extreme,  and, 
much  as  I  ever  thought  I  should  regret  this  dear  mother, 
I  find  that  regret  more  painful  and  deeper  than  I 
expected.  All  the  arrangements,  every  little  improvement 
at  Strawberry  Hill,  this  house,  all  (sometimes  imper- 
ceptibly at  the  moment  to  myself)  tended  wholly  to 
procure  her  amusement  and  comforts,  and  all  these 
have  lost  their  value  to  me.  But  never  more  to 
behold  that  benign  countenance  brighten  up  at  the  sight 
of  me !  This  does  give  me  the  feeling  of  an  almost 
broken  heart,  but  I  will  not  go  on,  tho'  I  know  you 
would  forgive  me,  nay,  I  know  you  like  that  I  should 
speak — and  with  you  why  should  I  not ! — from  the  first 
impression  of  my  heart. 

I  have,  too,  as  you  may  suppose,  melancholy  duties 
to  perform  and  melancholy  business  to  settle,  therefore 
must  not  linger  nor  indulge  in  writing  to  you,  or  enter 
further  at  present  into  details.  I  am  not,  I  assure  you, 
ill,  and  to-day  am  equal  to  all  that  may  be  required  of 
me  to  do  or  settle. 

One  thing  I  must  add,  my  good  kind  uncle  Frederick  x 
is  in  the  house  with  me.  He  arrived  on  Sunday,  the 
day  before  yesterday,  and  enters  so  much  into  all  my 
feelings  and  all  my  ideas  on  this  melancholy  subject 
that  he  is  a  real  support  and  comfort  to  me.  He  begs 
kindly  to  be  remembered  to  you,  and  said  just  now,  as 
he  often  does,  that  there  is  no  one  he  loves  or  admires 
more  than  you.  My  dearest  life,  believe  me,  I  feel 
amidst  all  my  suffering  for  you,  and  I  know  the  pang 
you  will  feel  at  not  being  with  me  on  such  an  occasion. 
But  better  even  now  do  I  think  it  that  you  should  be 
where  you  are  in  health  and  composed  spirit  (at  least 
comparatively)  than  here  with  all  the  sufferings,  of  your 
own  I  mean,  I  feel  convinced  you  could  not  have 
escaped,  had  you  remained  in  England.  I  must  end. 
May  Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.2 

1  Lord  Frederick  Campbell.  *  Add.  MSS.  37727.  t>4l. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     219 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Friday,  January  21,  1 803. 

You  will  expect  a  continuation  of  my  melancholy 
story.  Quite  sure  I  am  not  precisely  where  I  left  off. 
First,  as  I  know  how  anxious  you  will  be  for  me,  I  must 
tell  you  I  am  not  bodily  ill,  but  equal  to  give  every 
necessary  order,  to  do  all  that  is  required  of  me  and 
that  my  mind  is  what  may  be  called  composed,  tho'  I 
feel  my  spirits  weaken  and  my  tears  flow  faster  than  on 
any  similar  occasion  I  have  had  the  misfortune  to 
witness.  It  can  not  be  otherwise.  Every  tender  partial 
affection  of  my  dearest  mother  towards  me  wakes  in  my 
recollections,  and  I  feel  a  regret  even  for  the  moments 
I  may  have  lost  when  she  perhaps  wished  me  to  be 
with  her,  or  at  the  remembrance  of  a  single  word  or  ex- 
pression that  the  quickness  of  my  temper  or  feelings 
may  have  made  me  utter  when,  poor  soul !  I  ought  to 
have  spared  her !  Yet  much,  I  trust,  I  have  not  to 
reproach  myself  with,  and  I  do  trust  that  I  have  not  only 
contributed  to  the  comfort  of  my  dear  mother,  but  made 
that  comfort  such  as  rendered  life  desirable  to  her,  even 
to  her  latest  moments. 

I  think  I  told  you  (and  if  I  did  not  you  will  have  no 
doubt  what  must  be  my  intention)  that  I  was  determined 
to  attend  the  last  sad  ceremony,  say  the  "ultimo  vale," 
but  I  am  not  certain  that  I  did  tell  you,  as  after  con- 
siderations we  had,  when  I  last  wrote,  but  just  decided 
that  the  remains  of  my  mother  are  to  be  deposited  in 
Sundridge  Church  in  the  chancel.  Combbanke  was  her 
father's  place  ;  there  she  lived,  there  she  married,  and  in 
the  same  spot  where  she  will  be  my  uncle  Frederick, 
when  Fate  calls  him,  will  be  himself  deposited.  There 
too  I  may,  at  leisure,  raise  a  small  monument  to  the 
memory  of  a  beloved  mother,  and  still  have  the  power  to 
drop  over  it  a  silent  tear.     I  trust  you  will   not   dis- 


220  BERRY    PAPERS 

approve  our  decision  in  favour  of  this  plan,  which  to  me 
appears  in  every  way  the  best,  and  what,  if  my  poor 
mother  ever  had  a  wish  on  the  subject,  would  have  been 
her  wish,  for  you  will  believe  that  the  dread  way  of  so 
long  a  journey,  under  the  present  cruel  circumstances 
either  to  Rayling  or  Lord  Aylesbury's  would  not  have 
made  me  give  up  what  I  thought  right.  I  must  add,  on 
this  sad  subject,  that  Lord  Tom  called  on  me  yesterday 
(rather  I  saw  him  yesterday  for  he  and  Lord  John  had 
been  constantly  at  our  door),  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
think  it  affecting  and  pretty  in  so  young  and  gay  a  man 
when  I  tell  you  that  he  offered,  with  his  brother,  Lord 
John,  to  attend  with  us  at  the  ceremony  if,  he  said,  I 
thought  my  uncle  would  like  it.  I  answered  for  him 
and  for  myself,  accepted  his  offer  with  thanks,  as  every- 
thing pleases  me  that  I  consider  as  a  mark  of  affection 
or  a  mark  of  respect  for  the  memory  of  my  mother. 
My  uncle  Frederick  is  this  very  instant  returned  (near 
4  o'clock).  I  must  lose  no  time  in  finishing  this,  that  it 
may  not  be  too  late  for  the  post,  as  you  will  be  anxious 
to  hear  again  from  me.  I  may  not  write  again  by 
Tuesday's  post.  That  day  or  the  next  will  be  the  day  I 
shall  leave  town,  and  nothing  new  may  or  probably  will 
occur  to  tell  you  till  after  that  period. 

Madame  de  Staremberg,the  only  person  I  have  hitherto 
seen  that  I  was  not  in  a  manner  obliged  to  see,  has  been 
all  kindness  to  me,  her  heart  is  so  feeling,  her  attentions 
to  my  mother  were  so  marked  and  so  pleasing  to  her, 
good  soul !  and  Madame  de  Staremberg's  anxiety  about 
her  so  great,  that,  believing  her  sincere  in  the  wishes 
she  expressed  to  see  me,  I  felt  a  sort  of  relief  in  seeing 
her.  And  her  sense  and  feeling,  expressed  in  the  very 
kindest  terms  possible,  not  to  forget  her  love  and  admira- 
tion of  you  which  she  forgets  not  to  express,  have 
altogether  made  me,  even  now,  see  her  with  a  degree  of 
pleasure.  She  calls  for  a  little  every  evening,  for  to  say 
the  truth,  long  my  spirits  could  bear  no-one's  company 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     221 

at  this  moment,  but  the  company  of  one  dear,  and  ever 
more  dear,  present  or  absent.  Madame  de  S[taremberg] 
has  promised  to  write  to  you  on  Tuesday.  Your  letter  of 
the  3rd  Jan.  I  received  on  the  18th.  I  need  not  say  I 
shall  answer  it,  tho'  I  can  not  to-day.  Farewell,  and 
heaven  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

COMBBANKE,  Friday  Evening,  January  28,  1803. 

I  felt  that  it  was  well  I  had  sent  you  a  letter  by 
Tuesday's  post,  as  yesterday  I  could  not  have  written. 
On  Wednesday,  the  day  I  left  town,  the  weather,  which 
for  the  last  days  had  returned  to  its  mild  state,  again 
had  changed  and  grown  intensely  cold.  A  violent  fall 
of  snow  rendered  the  streets  for  the  most  part  so  slip- 
pery that  Walter  could  drive  little  faster  than  a  foot's 
pace.  However,  on  the  road,  with  a  considerable  degree 
of  jumbling  and  jolting,  we  got  on,  but  I  arrived  here 
almost  frozen,  and  what  with  the  cold,  and  the  still  more 
serious  evil,  the  load  of  anxiety  and  agitation  on  my 
mind,  I  was  so  unwell  in  the  night  that  I  really  feared 
I  should  have  been  unable  to  attend  the  duty  I  had 
so  much  at  heart  to  perform.  But  with  resolution,  I 
believe  we  always  find  strength  to  do  what  we  decidedly 
think  right.  Yesterday  between  ten  and  eleven  Lord 
Tom  and  Lord  John  arrived,  and  in  I  believe  about  an 
hour  afterwards  we  proceeded  to  the  church.  It  is 
sufficient  to  say  I  was  miserably  affected,  but  got  through 
with  the  ceremony. 

Dr.  Vise  came  purposely  from  Lambeth  to  perform 
the  service,  which  he  seemed  to  do  feelingly.  I  saw 
and  heard  but  imperfectly,  but  once  or  twice  as  I  looked 
up  I  perceived  the  tears  standing  in  his  eyes.  When  I 
returned  home  I  was  seized  with  such  a  pain  in  my  back 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  44- 


222  BERRY    PAPERS 

I  could  scarcely  speak  for  a  considerable  time.  How- 
ever I  was  then  in  my  own  room,  where  I  remained  till 
the  pain  lessened  and  I  recovered  enough  to  go  down 
to  dinner,  and  have  felt  less  of  this  rheumatism  (which  I 
doubt  not  that  it  is).  But  in  a  driving  snow  we  had  to 
walk  slowly  thro'  a  great  part  of  the  church  yard,  and 
then  the  chill  of  the  church  itself,  as  you  may  suppose, 
was  extreme.  This  house,  as  you  know  with  everything 
that  is  ornamental  and  pretty,  has  little  of  comfort,  and 
the  cold  of  it  is  beyond  imagination.  Yet,  both  my 
uncle  and  Lady  Frederick  are  so  kind  and  good  to  me, 
and  I  am  here  quiet,  as  much  alone  as  I  like,  and  away 
from  every  obligation  of  seeing  any  person  whatever, 
that  I  could  stay  longer  here,  were  it  not  for  this  fear 
of  being  ill,  from  the  extreme  cold  and  badness  of  the 
weather,  so  much  more  sensibly  felt  at  this  place  than 
in  London  or  that  I  should  feel  it  even  at  Strawberry 
Hill,  where  I  have  a  desire  to  go,  that  my  mind  would 
best  recover  its  tone  by  quiet  and  solitude. 

The  very  few  persons  I  mean  to  see,  I  shall,  I  doubt 
not,  have  to  thank  for  their  kindness  to  me  and  feel 
obliged  to  them,  but  none  can  at  this  time  relieve  the 
oppression  of  my  heart.  You  do  not  think  me  ungrate- 
ful to  those  who  interest  themselves  about  me?  Madame 
de  Staremberg  in  particular  claims  and  truly  has  my 
thanks,  for  thus  seeking  me,  so  little  known  to  her  !  in 
distress.  She  has  indeed,  with  sense,  tact  and  judge- 
ment, if  I  mistake  not  much,  a  feeling  heart. 

Saturday  morning. — I  wrote  down  your  questions  to 
Dr.  Moore,  and  enclose  you  his  answer,  which  Mrs.  Burns 
to  whom  I  sent  my  little  paper  to  show  him,  foolishly 
sent  here  to  me  and  by  that  means  lost  a  post.  He  is, 
poor  man,  somewhat  loth,  but  as  I  understand  doomed 
to  leave  this  country.  I  opened  his  letter,  by  which  I 
find  my  idea  of  the  air  of  Nice,  tho'  salutary  in  general, 
not  being  entirely  what  suits  your  constitution,  con- 
firmed.    I  hope  and  trust,  therefore,  that  no  considera- 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     223 

tion  of  money  matters  will  prevent  your  change  of  place 
whenever  the  time  comes  that  it  may  suit  you.  This 
you  promised,  and  still  more  ;  more  what  can  it  signify  ! 
What  earthly  object  have  I  to  think  of  but  yourself,  and 
you  know  how  easily  I  can  place  a  few  hundreds  into 
your  account  into  Coutts'  hands  to  serve,  and  you  need 
not  then  be  obliged  even  to  good  Hoper.1  Spa,  I  still 
think  with  you,  should  be  your  grand  object,  and  if,  as  I 
am  led  to  hope,  you  continue  but  as  well  as  you  have 
hitherto  done,  will  confirm  in  a  great  measure  your 
health  and  enable  you  to  encounter  an  English  winter, 
a  severe  enemy,  I  am  sure.2 


Lord  Hartington  to  Mary  Berry 

Devonshire  House,  January  30,  1803. 

You  cannot  think,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  how  much 
pleasure  your  letter  gave  me.  Every  thing  you  can 
say  about  Nice  will  be  news  to  me,  as  I  have  never  had 
any  correspondent  there.  We  are  all  extremely  sorry 
that  poor  Mrs.  Ellis  is  so  ill  :  we  knew  her  so  well.  I 
envy  you  very  much  upon  your  tall,  personable  beast  on 
the  mountains,  whilst  we  (poor  souls  ! )  are  shivering, 
wrapped  up  in  great  coats  by  the  fireside,  nor  daring  to 
go  out  all  day  long.  We  are  certainly  to  go  to  Paris  this 
summer,  for  Papa  has  said,  and  still  means  to  fulfil 
his  promise,  that  he  will  go.  Perhaps  we  shall  meet 
you  there  on  your  way  back.  I  have  given  your 
message  to  Mama,  and  will  to  G.  when  I  write  to  her, 
who,  instead  of  being  in  Hill  Street  playing  with  my 
nephew,  is  now  dancing  at  all  the  Paris  balls,  while  little 
George  is  now  with  us  at  Devonshire  House.  I  will 
not,  if  you  like  it,  wait  for  your  answer,  but  will  write 

1  A  business  man  who  took  charge  of  the  affairs  of  many  persons  of  im- 
portance, including  those  of  the  Princess  of  Wales. 
*  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  46. 


224  BERRY    PAPERS 

a  Newspaper  for  you  every  week.  You  can  stop  them 
as  soon  as  you  like.  I  have  answered  your  letter,  and 
now  I  will  say  my  own  say. 

I  suppose  you  knew  that  poor  Mrs.  H.  Greville  died 
last  week.  She  was  brought  to  bed  in  the  morning 
of  a  dead  child,  and  died  in  the  night.  My  sister  was 
very  much  affected. 

I  suppose  you  know  that  Lord  and  Lady  Abercorn * 
have  had  a  play  at  The  Priory.  It  was  Who's  the  Dupe? 
and  The  Wedding  Day.  It  was  very  well  acted.  Lady 
Cahir  2  acted  Lady  Contes.  The  other  actors  were  Pen 
and  George  Lamb,3  Lawrence,4  the  two  Mr.  Maddocks,5 
Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay,6  Miss  Butler  and  Mrs.  Kemble.7 
Mama  and  my  sister  were  there.  There  was  no  room 
for  poor  me ;  I  should  like  to  have  been  there  very 
much. 

Last  night,  while  Mrs.  Lloyd  was  playing  at  whist, 
Mama  asked  her  to  cut,  and  thought  she  looked  very 
pale.  She  asked  where  she  was,  and  what  she  had  been 
doing,  and  said  that  it  was  very  odd  but  she  did  not 
remember  anything  that  had  ever  happened  to  her  in 
life.  Miss  Trimmer  asked  her  whether  she  would  not 
go    home.     She    said    she    did    not    know   where    she 

1  John  James  Hamilton,  first  Marquis  and  ninth  Earl  of  Abercorn  (1756- 
1818).  Lady  Abercorn,  his  second  wife,  whom  he  married  in  1800,  was 
Lady  Anne  Jane  Gore  (d.  1827),  daughter  of  Arthur,  second  Earl  of  Arran, 
and  widow  of  Henry  Hatton  of  Clonard. 

*  Lady  Cahir,  afterwards  Countess  of  Glengall. 

3  The  Hon.  Peniston  (d.  1805)  and  the  Hon.  George  Lamb  (d.  1834), 
sons  of  Peniston,  first  Viscount  Melbourne. 

*  Thomas  Lawrence  (1769- 18 30),  the  painter.  He  was  knighted  in  1815, 
and  P.R.A.  from  1820. 

6  Probably  the  actors,  one  of  whom  played  in  Miss  Berry's  comedy, 
Fashionable  Friends,  at  Drury  Lane. 

*  Lady  Charlottle  North  (1770-1847),  youngest  daughter  of  Frederick, 
second  Earl  of  Guilford  (better  known  as  Lord  North),  married  in  1800 
Lieutenant-Colonel  the  Hon.  John  Lindsay,  son  of  James,  fifth  Earl  of 
Balcarres.  She  was,  later,  a  lady-in-waiting  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and  a 
great  friend  of  the  Misses  Berry. 

7  Mrs.  John  Kemble,  wife  of  the  tragedian. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     225 

lived,  or  anything  about  anybody.  At  last  we  got  her 
home,  and  this  morning  she  was  quite  well.  The  other 
night  we  went  to  Lady  Sutherland's  to  hear  Mrs. 
Billington x  sing.  She  was  there.  The  moment  she 
began  to  sing  Miss  Lloyd  started  up,  and  cried  out 
M  0  Dear,"  in  her  way,  and  stood  stupefied  all  the  rest  of 
the  evening  with  her  mouth  wide  open  with  wonder. 
She  had  never  heard  her  before. 

Andreossi  came  here  the  other  night,  and  talked  a 
great  deal  about  Bonaparte,  and  defended  his  cruelty  in 
Egypt,  which  is  mentioned  in  Wilson's  book  on  the 
war  there.2  He  said  that  it  was  not  true  that  he  had 
ordered  all  the  wounded  to  be  killed,  for  they  took  away 
numbers,  and  those  few  that  were  killed  were  past  re- 
covery, and  that  he  did  it  out  of  humanity. 

My  Aunt  Bessborough  is  to  set  out  from  Paris  on 
the  sixth  of  next  month.  They  are  very  sorry  to  go. 
Moreau  has  been  to  see  her.  He  makes  no  scruples 
of  disapproving  of  the  present  government.  My  Aunt 
asked  him  if  he  was  not  afraid  of  Bonaparte's  killing 
him,  upon  which  he  said,  "  Bonaparte  est  un  tyran  mats 
pas  un  assassin."  He  said  that  he  was  not  afraid  of 
his  banishing  him,  for  he  had  the  hearts  of  all  the  army, 
and  that  he  did  not  dare. 

The  Dutchess  of  Gordon  said  at  her  ball  when  she 
saw  Lady  Georgiana  dancing  with  Berthier,  "  Voila 
Georgine  qui  danse  avec  la  General." 

I  am  afraid  you  will  be  sadly  tired  with  this  long 
scrawl.  I  will  write  something  more  substantial  when 
I  get  some  news.  In  the  mean  time,  I  remain,  Yours 
ever  affectionately. 

Hartington.3 


1  Elizabeth  Billington  (i  768-181 8),  the  famous  opera  singer. 

2  The  History  of  the  British  Expedition  to  Egypt,  by  Major  (afterwards 
General)  Sir  Robert  Francis  Wilson,  1802. 

*  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  22. 


226  BERRY    PAPERS 


Chevalier  Jerningham  to  Mary  Berry 

Paris,  le  2fevrier,  1803. 

La  lettre  que  vous  m'avez  fait  l'honneur  de 
m'^crire,  mademoiselle,  le  premier  jour  de  l'an,  a  6te" 
l'etrenne  la  plus  agreable  que  je  pusse  recevoir.  Je 
vous  prie  de  vouloir  bien  agr6er  mes  remerciements  de 
votre  aimable  souvenir.  Je  suis  charme"  que  le  climat 
de  Nice  vous  sait  aussi  favorable  ;  il  ne  faut  rien  moins 
qu'on  avantage  aussi  r£el  pour  consoler  Mrs.  Darner 
de  ne  vous  avoir  pas  a  Londres  dans  un  moment  ou 
vos  soins  lui  seraient  si  n^cessaires :  Mon  frere  me 
mande  qu'elle  est  accabl^e  de  la  peste  qu'elle  vient 
de  faire,  et  je  le  concois  ais6ment,  car  la  pauvre  Lady 
Aylesbury  etait  si  aimable  pour  les  personnes  qui  lui 
etaient  meme  6trangeres,  qu'elle  doit  etre  une  perte 
irreparable  pour  ses  amis,  et  surtout  pour  sa  fille ! 
Pourquoi  Mrs.  D[amer]  ne  vous  irait-elle  pas  rejoindre  ? 
Le  voyage,  et  le  changement  de  lieux  est  la  meilleure 
distraction  qu'on  puisse  conseiller  a  quelqu'un  d'affige. 

Paris  ne  m'offre  pas  encore  de  Grands  Sujets  de 
satisfaction.  Mes  affairs  ne  finissent  point :  ma  presen- 
tation aux  trois  consuls  a  6te  faite  a  cette  intention,  mais 
je  suis  encore  a  en  6prouver  les  effets.  De  tres 
excellent  diners,  et  de  belles  paroles,  doivent  cependant 
etre  mis  en  ligne  de  compte.  .  .  . 

II  y  a  eu  Samedi  dernier  un  superbe  bal  chez  le 
ministre  de  la  Marine,  comme  il  occupe  le  batiment 
de  la  place  Louis  XV  qui  6tait  jadis  le  garde  meubie, 
le  local  6tait  tres  favorable  a  une  fete  ;  Mde.  Bonaparte 
a  honore"  celle  ci  de  sa  presence ;  elle  est  arrivee 
escortee  d'un  ou  deux  presets  du  palais.  Assise, 
entour£e  de  tout  ce  cortege,  elle  n'a  parle-  a  personne  ; 
un  malheureux  stranger  s'est  avise  de  s'approcher 
d'elle  et  de  lui  demander  de  ses  nouvelles.     Un  prefet 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     227 

lui  a  dit  a  l'oreille.  H  Madame  interroge,  mais  on  ne 
lui  parle  pas  le  premier."  La  Duchesse  de  Gordon, 
toujours  basse  et  rampante,  a  passe  vingt  fois  devant 
elle,  dans  l'esp^rance  d'en  etre  remarqude,  mais  n'a 
pas  obtenu  un  seul  mot,  et  je  ne  puis  qu'en  dtre  fort 
aise.  Cette  Grace  (j'ai  pense"  dire  cette  graisse)  continue 
a  donner  des  bals  ou  il  y  a  un  terrible  melange;  elle 
a  trouve  fort  simple  celui  que  le  Ministre  de  la  Guerre 
a  donn6  le  21  Janvier,  et  a  blame  tres  haut  la  Duchesse 
de  Dorset  de  n'y  avoir  pas  voulu  aller  a  raison  de 
l'epoque  !  !  Cette  ambassadrice  vit  jusqu'a  present  assez 
retiree.  Soit  peu,  ni  Lord  Whitworth *  non  plus : 
l'hotel  de  Chavoit  qu'il  a  lou£,  ne  pourra  etre  pret  que 
dans  deux  mois  d'ici,  et  la  petitesse  de  la  maison 
qu'il  occupe  a  present  est  une  excuse  pour  ne  recevoir 
que  peu  de  monde,  ce  qui  ne  pouvait  e'tre  fort  du 
gout  de  la  duchesse.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Villiers  sont  partis 
il  y  a  deux  jours  ;  ils  n'ont  pas  invito  la  majeur  partie 
de  leurs  compatriotes  par  leur  empressement  de  connoitre 
et  de  voir  toutes  les  spectacles  du  jour,  et  les  dances 
du  quartier  de  la  chaussee  d'Austria  ;  ils  sont  regretted 
par  le  bonne  Compagnie  qu'ils  ont  constament  frequentee, 
et  notament  par  Mde.  de  Goutant,  011  je  les  voyais  fort 
souvent. 

Les  papiers  vous  apprendront  la  mort  de  Mdlle. 
Clairon,2  a  81  ans ;  elle  avait  recu  la  veille,  un  rem- 
boursement  de  14  mille  francs,  d'un  Anglais  qu'elle  avoit 
connu  autrefois.  Elle  a  6te"  parfaitement  gaie  au  diner 
qu'elle  donna  pour  cel^brer  sa  quatrevingtieme  annee 
revolue,  ainsi  que  pour  boire  a  la  santd  de  son  debiteur  j 
a  3  heurs  du  matin,  elle  voulut  se  lever  de  son  lit,  tomba, 
et    fut    trouv^e    presqu'expirante    par    sa    femme    de 

1  The  widowed  Duchess  of  Dorset  married  in  1801  Charles  Whitworth, 
Baron  Whitworth  (1752-1825).  Whitworth  was  appointed  1802  Ambassador 
at  Paris.     In  181 5  he  was  created  Earl  Whitworth. 

*  Claire  Josephine  Hippolyte  Legris  de  la  Tude,  the  French  actress  pro- 
fessionally known  as  Mdlle.  Clairon.  She  was  the  mistress  of  the  Margrave 
of  Anspach  from  1770- 1787,  and  during  this  time  lived  at  his  court. 


228  BERRY    PAPERS 

chambre  a  8  heures  :  elle  n'avait  pas  eu  la  force  de 
crier ;  c'est  un  voisin  qui  a  dit  avair  entendu  du  bruit 
vers  les  trois  heures  :  elle  avait  recite"  quelques  tirades 
de  Racine,  a  Kemble,  a  son  retour  a  Paris,  et  avec 
beaucoup  de  feu  et  de  memoire.  .  .  . 

E.  Jerningham.1 


Lord  Hartington  to  Mary  Berry 

Harrow,  March  5,  1803. 

Dear  Miss  Berry, — Nothing  has  happened  worth 
telling  you  since  my  last  letter,  except  that  on  the  22nd, 
Col.  Despard a  and  his  associates  were  executed, 
and  had  their  heads  cut  off,  but  were  excused  the 
rest.  I  will  copy  part  of  the  account  out  of  the  news- 
papers. 

"  The  sentence  of  the  law  has  been  carried  into 
execution  !  The  warrant  for  the  execution  yesterday 
morning  had  been  made  out,  and  included  the  names 
of  Edward  Marcus  Despard,  Thomas  Broughton,  John 
Francis,  Arthur  Graham,  John  McNamara,  John  Wood, 
James  Wrattan.  As  soon  as  the  warrant  was  received, 
it  was  communicated  to  the  unhappy  persons  by  Mr. 
Ives,  the  keeper  of  the  prison.  We  believe  it  was 
expected  by  all, — by  all  it  was  received  with  equal 
courage  and  fortitude.  Colonel  Despard  observed  upon 
it  being  communicated  to  him  that  the  time  was  short : 
yet  he  had  not  had  from  the  first  any  strong  expectation 
that  the  recommendation  of  the  Jury  would  be  effectual. 
Mrs.  Despard  was  greatly  affected  when  she  heard 
that  his  fate  was  signed,  but  on  Sunday  recovered  her 
fortitude.  At  daylight  on  Sunday  morning  the  drop 
scaffold  and  gallows  on  which  they  were  to  be  executed 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  32. 

*  Edward  Marcus  Despard  (1751-1803),  executed  at  Newington,  London, 
for  high  treason. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     229 

were  erected  on  the  top  of  the  gaol.  All  the  Bow  Street 
patrole  and  many  other  peace  officers  were  on  duty 
all  the  day  and  night,  and  the  military  near  London 
were  drawn  up  close  to  it.  Mrs.  Despard  having  taken 
leave  of  her  husband  at  three  o'clock,  came  again  at 
five,  but  it  was  thought  advisable  to  spare  the  Colonel 
the  pangs  of  a  second  parting,  and  she  was  therefore 
not  admitted  into  the  prison.  She  evinced  some  in- 
dignation at  the  refusal  and  expressed  a  strong  opinion 
with  respect  to  the  cause  for  which  her  husband  was 
to  suffer.  The  next  morning,  as  the  prisoners  were 
placed  on  the  hurdles,  St.  George's  bell  tolled  for  some 
time  :  it  was  about  half  past  eight  when  the  prisoners 
were  brought  up  to  the  scaffold.  As  soon  as  the  cord 
was  fastened  round  the  neck  of  one,  the  second  was 
brought  up,  and  so  on,  till  the  cords  were  fastened 
round  the  necks  of  all  seven.  Col.  Despard  was 
brought  up  last,  dressed  in  boots,  a  dark  brown  great 
coat,  his  hair  unpowdered.  The  ceremony  of  fastening 
the  prisoners  being  finished,  the  Colonel  advanced  as 
near  as  he  could  to  the  edge  of  the  scaffold  and  made 
the  following  speech  to  the  multitude, — *  Fellow 
Citizens  :  I  come  here  as  you  see  to  suffer  death  upon 
a  scaffold  for  a  crime  of  which  I  protest  I  am  not 
guilty.  I  solemnly  declare  that  I  am  no  more  guilty 
of  it  than  any  of  you  who  may  be  now  hearing  me. 
But,  though  His  Majesty's  ministers  know  as  well  as 
I  do  that  I  am  not  guilty,  yet  they  avail  themselves  of 
a  legal  pretext  to  destroy  a  man,  because  he  has  been 
a  friend  to  faith,  to  liberty,  and  to  justice.'  (There 
was  a  considerable  huzza  from  part  of  the  populace 
the  nearest  to  him.)  The  Colonel  proceeded,  '  because 
he  had  been  a  friend  to  the  poor  and  the  oppressed. 
But,  Citizens,  I  hope  and  trust,  notwithstanding  my 
fate  and  the  fate  of  those  who  will  soon  follow  me, 
that  the  principles  of  freedom,  of  humanity  and  of 
justice  will  finally  triumph  over  tyranny,  falsehood  and 


230  BERRY    PAPERS 

delusion,  and  every  principle  hostile  to  the  human 
race.  And  now  having  said  this  I  have  little  more 
to  add  but  to  wish  you  all  health,  happiness,  and 
freedom,  which  I  have  endeavoured  as  far  as  has  been 
in  my  power  to  procure  for  you  and  for  mankind  in 
general.' 

"The  last  and  most  dreadful  part  of  the  ceremony 
was  now  to  be  performed.  The  most  awful  silence 
prevailed,  and  the  thousands  present  all  with  one  accord 
stood  uncovered.  At  seven  minutes  before  nine  o'clock 
the  signal  was  given  :  the  platform  dropped  and  they 
were  all  launched  into  eternity.  Colonel  Despard  had 
not  only  struggle — twice  he  opened  and  clenched  his 
hands  convulsively — he  stirred  no  more.  The  rest 
were  motionless  after  a  few  struggles.  Colonel  Despard 
was  first  cut  down.  After  his  coat  and  waistcoat  were 
pulled  off,  his  head  was  severed  from  his  body  by  the 
executioner.  He  then  took  the  head  by  the  hair  and 
carrying  to  the  parapet  on  the  right  hand,  held  it 
up  to  the  view  of  the  populace  and  exclaimed,  'This 
is  the  head  of  a  traitor,  Edward  Marcus  Despard.' 
There  was  some  hissing  when  the  head  was  exhibited. 
The  same  ceremony  was  performed  with  the  other 
prisoners  whose  bodies  were  put  into  their  respective 
shells.  The  whole  of  the  awful  ceremony  was  con- 
ducted with  the  greatest  propriety  by  Sir  Richard 
Ford  and  the  Sheriff." 

I  will  write  you  another  letter  in  a  few  days  to  tell 
you  more  news,  but  I  thought  that  this  would  entertain 
you.  My  sister  and  Lord  Morpeth  are  still  detained  at 
Calais  on  their  way  back  by  contrary  winds.  The  little 
boy  has  been  very  unwell.  They  were  afraid  at  first 
that  it  was  the  Croup,  but  it  was  the  disorder  that  our 
neighbors  the  French  have  sent  us  over  and  that  every 
body  has  got,  la  Grippe. — Yesterday  evening  Nugent, 
Lord  Westmeath's  second  son,  died  here  of  the  measles 
and  an  inflammation  in  his  lungs.     A  coffin  and  mourn- 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT      231 

ing  coach  came  for  him  this  morning.  He  was  a  very 
nice  little  boy. — It  only  wants  three  weeks  to  the  Easter 
holidays. — Pray  remember  me  to  your  sister,  and  believe 
me,  I  am,  yours  ever  affectionately, 

Hartington.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Saturday,  March  5,  1803. 

I  really  have  been  talked  to  death  this  morning  and 
must  begin  a  letter  to  you  by  way  of  relief.  It  was  a 
succession  ending  with  Mr.  Burn,  who  tho'  really  kind 
and  sensible,  is  often  too  much  for  my  spirits,  and  he 
never  takes  the  tone  from  others,  but  imagines  he  can 
at  all  times  drag  them  into  his  vortex  but  this  is  never 
the  case  with  me,  for  if  I  am  low,  such  attempts  make 
me  sink  lower  and  lower,  and  now  I  actually  suffer  from 
a  number  of  hours  passed  in  the  manner  I  mention,  not 
only  at  the  moment  but  afterwards,  and  commonly  sleep 
the  worse  for  it.  This  evening  I  expect  no  one  except 
perhaps  Madame  de  H.,  of  whom  I  am  sure  I  have  no 
such  complaint  to  make — so  much  the  contrary  that  I 
am  mistaken  if  she  is,  or  has  always  been  as  happy 
as  the  present  state  of  her  fortunes  make  her 
appear.  At  least  it  is  rare  with  so  much  sensibility  and 
intelligence  to  sympathize  with  others  in  distress  and 
understand  feelings  wholly  new  to  ourselves.  I  never 
have  told  you  what  I  feel  certain  you  will  not  disapprove, 
that  the  interest  and  admiration  she  so  repeatedly 
expressed  for  you,  and  the  natural  inquiries  she  made 
concerning  you,  which  from  a  character  like  hers  could 
not  be  curiosity,  inspired  me  with  a  wish  to  tell  her 
your  story.  Was  I  wrong  ?  Not  if  I  am  to  judge  by 
her  way  of  listening  to  what  [is]  said  I  am  sure !  and 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  38. 


232  BERRY    PAPERS 

what  can  be  told  of  you  that  does  not  interest  or  do 
you  honour.     Farewell  for  the  present. 


Tuesday,  March  8. 

I  yesterday,  while  I  was  at  dinner,  received  your 
letter  of  the  20th  February,  and  should  have  written  to  you 
in  the  evening,  for  I  was  alone,  but  I  had  a  sort  of  head- 
ache, I  believe  from  the  piercing  wind  which  now 
prevails,  and  which  I  am  sure  tempts  me  not  to  go  out, 
had  I  no  other  reason  for  staying  at  home.  You  were 
right,  indeed,  my  life,  in  thinking  the  oppression  on  my 
mind  great  when  the  letter,  begun  at  Combbanke,  went 
to  you.  That  oppression  was  a  sort,  and  such  there  is, 
to  which  no  writing  seems  adequate.  There  must  be 
a  suite  and  order  in  a  letter,  merely  to  make  oneself 
understood,  which  requires  the  mind  to  be  in  some 
degree  collected.  When  present  a  word  or  look 
expresses  what  a  substance  never  can,  and  thus  tho'  I 
am  not  Delphine  nor  feel  myself  in  any  way  allied  to  the 
race  of  modern  heroines  de  romans,  I  often  find  my  eyes 
refuse  the  task  my  heart,  for  relief,  would  impose  on 
them,  in  giving  you  details  of  what  I  now  feel  and  what 
I  suffer.  Otherwise  I  should  at  the  time  have  told  you 
how  the  melancholy  bell  tolled,  how  the  procession 
moved  on,  how,  for  a  long  way,  thro'  the  church  yard 
with  the  snow  driving  we  followed  the  sad  coffin,  my 
good  uncle  and  I,  arm  in  arm,  and  Lord  Frederick  and 
Lord  Tom  next.  The  coffin  was  nicely  decked,  and  the 
whole  conducted  with  the  greatest  order  and  propriety. 
Could  the  dear  soul  look  down  she  would  be  pleased 
with  this  last  tribute,  so  every  way  due  to  her.  I  cannot 
even  now  go  on,  but  do  not  think  my  spirits  are  not 
recovering,  I  am  persuaded  they  are,  tho'  slowly,  at 
least  to  a  certain  pitch,  where  perhaps  they  may  long 
remain,  but,  I  repeat  it,  I  am  naturally  anything  but 
gay,  except  at  moments,  and  these  moments  may  still 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     233 

come  again  !  My  errors,  I  trust,  have  been  such  as  may 
find  mercy  and  forgiveness.  Why  therefore  should  I 
despond  ! 

You,  dearest,  will  have  seen  long  before  this,  that  I 
by  no  means  "reject"  the  idea  of  meeting  you  abroad, 
that  is,  coming  to  you,  which  I  do  assure  you  with  truth 
I  am  convinced  will  be  better  for  me  than  your  returning 
here.  You  could  not,  ought  not  on  any  consideration  to 
expose  yourself  to  this  climate  before  June,  and  in  June 
I  have  now  made  my  plan  to  leave  England  perhaps 
early  in  that  month  and  be  on  my  way  to  you.  Meeting 
me  at  Spa  or  Paris  or  Brussels  are  only  kind  sugges- 
tions on  the  possibility  of  my  being  disposed  towards 
them,  but  it  is  quite  otherwise.  I  am  disposed  to  any 
place  in  a  good  climate  where  I  can  be  quiet  and  near 
you,  and  do  not  wish  to  travel  about  by  way  of  seeing 
anything  or  any  place.  I  have  not  recovered  my  love 
of  travelling,  but  I  am  convinced  that  the  change  of 
scene,  continuing  my  route  leisurely  and  alone,  and 
resting  a  day  or  two  as  I  find  myself  incline,  and  know- 
ing that  I  am  going  towards  you,  will  of  all  other  plans 
best  tend  to  restore  my  mind  and  make  me  sensible  I 
have  still  much  to  thank  Heaven  for.  I  should  say  I 
was  surprised  at  what  you  say  of  Miss  Argot,  but  why 
should  one  be  surprised  at  wood-headedness.  However, 
I  don't  feel,  as  I  say,  the  smallest  wish  to  visit  Switzerland 
and  its  romantic  beauties  at  this  moment. 

Agnes,  as  to  her,  will  never  feel  herself  anything  like 
happy  or  comfortable  but  while  shining  the  Queen  of  a 
little  society,  and  no-one  I  am  sure  is  better  formed 
naturally  to  shine  in  a  small  or  great  society.  Untoward 
circumstances  and  her  own  often  untoward  disposition 
have  made  this  not  easy  at  all  times  to  be  acomplished. 
I  would  and  for  your  dear  sake  !  this  were  otherwise  ! 
Your  father  and  his  dispositions  (more  easily  dealt  with) 
I  quite  understand,  and  indeed  at  his  age  do  not  wonder 
at.     Little  difficulties  are  always  magnified,  where  want 


234  BERRY    PAPERS 

of  taste  or  energy  prevent  their  being  lightly  passed  over, 
and  it  is  well  that  he  is  still  even  from  place  to  place 
moveable  at  the  will  of  others,  tho'  I  am  sure  every  way 
on  this  occasion  and  on  every  other  you  would  ever  wish 
to  move  him  to  his  own  real  advantage.  I  have  I  believe 
said  little  on  the  subject  of  your  health,  but  what  I  have 
felt  at  the  repeated  accounts  you  have  given  me,  upon 
the  whole  so  favourable,  I  leave  you  to  think !  Your 
going  was  my  decided  plan,  my  earnest  wish,  and  never 
for  one  instant  have  I  repented,  and  now  let  the  un- 
feeling say  we  cannot  love  another  better  than  ourselves. 
I  have  never  heard  a  word  of  Hugveriers,  and  therefore 
concluded  he  is  still  abroad,  nor  do  I  know  where  to 
enquire  for  him.  But  I  have  seen  another  courier  whom 
I  like  much,  as  far  as  appearance.  Perrey  recommended 
him  and  he  says  he  remembers  you  in  Italy.  His  name 
is  Tipot,  but  I  am  not  sure  he,  whether  it  be  can  or  will, 
I  know  not,  engage  with  me.  I  am  to  hear  in  a  day  or 
two,  and  if  he  will  not  shall  enquire  elsewhere.  Don't 
figure  me  to  yourself  fussy  or  cross  because  I  sometimes 
complain  of  seeing  more  people  than  I  wish  or  more  of 
them.  I  am  neither,  and  perhaps  you  would  think  in 
one  sense  too  little  so  !  They  come  and  they  go.  I 
wish  not  for  them,  tho'  certainly  I  should  be  sorry  at 
such  a  time  to  be  neglected  !  That  is  not  the  case, 
every  body  is  very  good  to  me  and  as  kind  as  they  can 
be,  but  how  few  ever  sympathize  for  long  (if  at  all)  with 
the  real  and  deep  distress  of  another  !  It  is  not  to  be 
expected  !  nor  from  many  to  be  desired.  When  I  come, 
you  must  expect  me  with  two  dogs,  like  old  Wander,  for 
I  never  can  again  leave  my  poor  Hylass  and  Miss  Berry, 
I  conclude  you  would  not  have  me  leave  her  behind. 
She  is  a  dear  little  thing,  is  grown  broad-backed  and 
what  you  would  call  impudent.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  48. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     235 

Lord  Hartington  to  Mary  Berry 

Harrow,  March  12,  1803. 

Dear  Miss  Berry, — Thank  you  a  thousand  times 
for  your  very  kind  letter  which  I  received  the  day  before 
yesterday,  and  take  the  first  opportunity  of  answering  it. 
I  was  very  much  entertained  with  the  "  Nice  Gazette  " 
and  envy  your  "uncommonly  bad"  winters  very  much, 
for  we  are  still  buried  in  snow.  I  am  very  much  afraid 
that  our  intention  of  a  trip  to  Paris  in  the  summer  is 
defeated,  for  that  destroyer  of  all  journeys  abroad, 
ycleped  War,  is  coming  towards  us  with  very  long 
strides,1  and  every  body  was  alarmed  yesterday  with  the 
King's  Message  to  Parliament,  which  was  in  all  the 
papers  and  which  I  send  you  with  what  the  paper  puts 
about  it. 

u  It  is  with  real  grief  that  we  present  to  our  readers 
the  following  Message,  sent  on  Tuesday  by  the  King  to 
both  Houses  of  Parliament.  We  earnestly  hope  that 
War  is  not  about  to  be  renewed,  an  event  which  must 
be  ruinous  in  so  extraordinary  degree  both  to  France 
and  England.  But  both  the  tone  of  the  message  and 
the  vigorous  measures  which  are  adopted  by  govern- 
ment prove  but  too  clearly  that  differences  of  a  serious 
nature  exist  between  the  two  nations.  All  the  ships  of 
war  at  Portsmouth  have  received  orders  to  repair  to 
Spithead,  a  fleet  of  observation  will  immediately  be 
formed,  and  the  most  expeditious  mode  of  raising  sea- 
men has  been  resorted  to.  Press  warrants  have  been 
issued  and  numbers  of  Sailors  found  in  and  about 
London  have  been  sent  to  the  tender.  The  Funds  in 
consequence  of  these  measures  have  felt  some  depres- 
sion." 

1  It  was  clear  to  most  intelligent  observers  that  the  Treaty  of  Amiens  was 
only  a  temporary  peace,  and  that  war  must  very  soon  again  be  declared  be- 
tween France  and  England. 


236  BERRY    PAPERS 

"  G.  R.  His  Majesty  thinks  it  necessary  to  acquaint 
the  House  that  as  very  considerable  military  prepara- 
tions are  now  carrying  on  in  the  ports  of  France  and 
Holland,  his  Majesty  thinks  it  expedient  to  adopt 
measures  of  precaution  for  the  safety  of  his  dominions. 
Although  these  preparations  are  avowedly  directed  to 
colonial  purposes,  yet  as  great  and  important  discus- 
sions are  now  carrying  on  between  His  Majesty  and  the 
French  Government,  the  issue  of  which  may  be  un- 
certain, and  his  Majesty  being  solicitous  for  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  peace,  is  induced  to  make  this  communi- 
cation in  full  persuasion  that,  whatever  may  be  the 
event,  he  may  rely  with  perfect  confidence  on  the  public 
spirit  and  liberality  of  his  faithful  Commons,  to  take  such 
measures  as  shall  conduce  to  the  honour  of  his  crown, 
the  safety  of  his  dominions,  and  the  essential  interests  of 
his  people." 

I  was  very  much  surprised  by  your  quotation  out  of 
Horace's  Epistles.  I  did  not  know  that  you  was  a  Latin 
scholar.  I  sent  your  message  to  Mama  :  she  has  got  all 
her  Parisians  back.  They  arrived  on  the  seventh  :  they 
were  detained  at  Calais  for  ten  days,  where  they  used  to 
go  to  the  little  playhouse  at  the  inn  every  evening.  The 
little  boy  has  been  very  ill  indeed.  We  thought  at 
first  that  it  was  the  Croup  ;  but  it  turned  out  to  be 
the  disease  that  the  French  have  sent  us,  "  La  Grippe," 
and  which  every  body  has  got  in  London.  However, 
he  got  well  before  they  came.  I  believe  he  did  not 
know  his  father  and  mother,  but  he  looked  at  them 
as  if  he  had  some  recollection  of  their  faces,  and  is 
already  reconciled  to  them  and  beginning  to  be  soci- 
able and  gracious.  Mama  says  that  G.  look[s]  very 
well  and  a  little  French.  They  were  very  much 
pleased  with  Paris,  though  Bonaparte's  crossness  threw 
a  gloom  over  everything.  Mama  is  very  unhappy  at 
losing  the  little  boy. 

Agenor,  Madame  de  Grammont's  son,  is  arrived.    He 


AT    HOME    AND    ON   THE    CONTINENT     237 

is  beautiful  and  very  like  Corisande.  Poor  Madame  de 
Grammont 1  is  very  ill  indeed  at  Edinburgh. 

On  the  6th  of  this  month  died  the  Duke  of  Bridge- 
water  2 :  he  has  left  a  great  deal  to  Lord  Gower,3  which 
is  all  to  go  upon  his  death  to  his  son,  Lord  Francis.4 
There  was  a  report  that  the  Duke  of  Queensberry  6  was 
dead  and  [his]  character  was  given  in  the  Papers.  It 
was  not  true,  but  I  believe  he  is  very  ill,  as  also  are  the 
Dukes  of  Richmond  6  and  Portland.7  It  is  reported  that 
Lady  Harriet  Hamilton  8  is  going  to  marry  the  Marquis 
of  Waterford.9 

I  suppose  if  there  is  to  be  war  that  you  will  return 
to  England  sooner  than  you  intended.  I  am  quite 
vexed  with  them  for  it.  I  wish  at  least  that  it  was  not 
to  be  till  we  had  been  to  see  Paris.  I  am  going  home 
now  in  about  a  fortnight,  but  the  "pomps  and  vanities" 
shall  not,  if  I  can  help  it,  make  me  neglect  my  news- 
paper. On  the  contrary,  I  shall  have  more  time  there 
than  I  can  scrape  up  here. 

Bob  is  just  arrived  and  tells  me  that  all  the  coasts 

1  The  Duchesse  de  Periche,  nee  Francois  Gabrielle  Aglee  de  Polignac, 
died  at  Holyrood,  March  30,  1803. 

8  Francis  Egerton,  third  and  last  Duke  of  Bridgewater  (1736-1803), 
famous  for  the  construction  of  canals. 

3  The  Duke  of  Bridgewater's  nephew,  George  Granville  Leveson-Gower 
(1758-1833),  eldest  son  of  Granville,  first  Marquis  of  Stafford.  He  was, 
during  his  father's  lifetime,  summoned  to  Parliament  as  Baron  Gower.  He 
succeeded  to  the  earldom  on  October  26,  1803,  and  thirty  years  later  was 
created  Duke  of  Sutherland. 

4  Lord  Francis  Leveson-Gower  (1800-1857),  second  son  of  theabove.  He 
afterwards  assumed  the  surname  and  arms  of  Egerton.  He  was  created  Earl 
of  Ellesmere  in  1846. 

6  William  Douglas,  fourth  Duke  of  Queensberry  (1724-18 10),  known  as 
"  Old  Q.,"  and  notorious  for  his  dissolute  life. 

•  Charles  Lennox,  third  Duke  of  Richmond  (1735-1806). 

7  William  Henry  Cavendish  Bentinck,  third  Duke  of  Portland  (1738- 
1809),  Prime  Minister  in  1783  and  1807. 

8  Lady  Harriet  Margaret  Hamilton  (d.  April  30,  1803),  daughter  of 
James,  first  Duke  of  Abercorn. 

•  Henry  de  la  Poer  Beresford,  second  Marquis  of  Waterford  (1772-1826). 


238  BERRY    PAPERS 

of  France  near  England  are  armed,  and  that  there  are 
a  great  number  of  boats  with  which  they  say  as  a  pre- 
tence that  they  are  going  in  them  to  St.  Domingo  to 
plant  colonies. 

I  have  not  time  to  write  any  more  now,  but  believe 
me  I  shall  ever  remain,  Yours  affectionately, 

Hartington. 

P.S. — Everybody  send  their  love  to  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  March  28,  1803. 

I  wrote  my  last  letter  in  a  hurry,  yet  I  trust  you  will 
have  allowed  for  that  and  not  have  mistaken  any  ex- 
pression I  might  make  use  of.  At  any  rate,  my  meaning 
and  my  heart  you  never  can  mistake,  but  tho'  I  accept 
and  even  feel  not  undeserving  of  the  compliment  of 
"vieing"  in  tenderness  and  constancy  of  affection  with 
Madame  de  Sevigny,  I  can  not  quite  come  up  to  her  in 
words.  This  instant  I  receive  your  letter  of  the  12th 
March,  dearest  soul  !  I  have  not  a  thought,  not  a  hope 
that  does  not  refer  to  you, — wholly  depend  on  you,  and 
time,  be  assured,  will  dispel  the  sad  gloom  that  hangs 
over  my  mind.  I  never  meant  to  say  I  did  not  hope 
to  recover  that  interest,  that  sort  of  confidence  in  the 
possibility  of  future  days  being  brighter  than  present, 
which,  I  am  sure,  when  I  have  formerly  expressed,  it 
has  often  only  made  you  shake  your  dear  head,  recollect 
this.  You  are,  thank  Heaven,  in  better  health  and  in 
better  spirits,  and  much  it  grieves  me  to  think  how  much 
I  have  with  my  melancholy  dashed  your  comfort,  for  so 
it  is.  Not,  I  know,  that  you  would  have  had  me  sup- 
press the  feelings  from  which  I  suffered,  or  endeavour 
to  conceal  them  from  you,  but  writing  can  never  be 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  24. 


AT    HOME   AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     239 

like  speaking,  and  we  have  both  suffered  not  only  from 
u  les  contretemps"  but  from  "  les  maux  de  I  'absence."  It 
has  been  particularly  unfortunate  that  just  the  letters 
you  were  most  anxious  I  should  receive  soon,  were  the 
longest  on  the  road,  and  came,  as  I  told  you,  four  at 
once,  consequently  I  ought,  long  before,  to  have  received 
the  first  of  them.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that  I  have 
lost  any  one  of  your  letters.  I  have  several  times 
wished  I  could  recall  the  words  you  very  naturally  quote 
in  your  letter  **  not  that  I  prefer,"  &c,  for  they  seem 
to  imply  a  meaning  I  did  not  intend.  I  meant  merely 
not  to  influence  you  in  your  determination  in  this  way, 
and  felt  then  that,  so  that  I  had  the  prospect  of  being 
with  you,  I  cared  not  where  it  was.  Now,  I  assure  you, 
that  I  shall  be  very  much  disappointed  if  the  plan  of 
your  staying  abroad  should  fail,  which,  however,  I  will 
not  think,  for  surely  you  cannot  mistake  all  and  every 
single  letter  of  mine  written  since  I  received  that  of 
yours  of  the  4th  Feb.  joined  to  these  of  the  6th  and 
10th.  But  as  you  say,  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  what  I 
like  and  what  I  dislike,  I  will  at  least  tell  you  fairly 
the  latter  (for  the  first,  I  think  I  may  trust  your  own 
perception).  I  do  not  then  like  after  so  long  an  absence 
and  the  sort  of  melancholy  I  experience,  meeting  you 
at  an  Inn,  or  meeting  you  either  with  the  idea  of  bustling 
on  together,  or  apart,  on  an  immediate  journey  to  some 
other  place.  Nor  do  I  like  the  idea  of  so  exactly  fixing 
my  day  as  "meeting  at  the  clock  at  Dijon"  would 
make  me  feel  I  must,  whatever  you  say  to  the  contrary. 
(I  mean  that  a  few  days  sooner  or  later  did  not  signify.) 
Surely  it  is  a  much  more  comfortable  plan  that  I  should 
come  to  you  wherever  you  may  have  decided  to  pass 
your  summer,  and  then,  indeed,  we  may  settle  quietly, 
and  as  circumstances  arise,  where  we  shall  pass  our 
winter,  whether  in  Italy  or  France.  I  mean  certainly 
as  I  have  said,  to  set  out  on  the  first  of  June.  You  see, 
I  am  sure,  that  I  have  not  neglected  your  advice,  nor 


24o  BERRY    PAPERS 

wanted  confidence,  could  I  indeed  do  so !  in  your  kind 
and  anxious  affection  and  care  for  me,  but  have  much 
hastened  a  departure,  I,  however,  from  the  moment  I 
found  you  could  stay  abroad,  never  doubted  about. 
And  I  declare  to  you  with  truth  that  I  am  convinced 
nothing  can  be  so  likely  to  restore  my  mind  to  any 
tone,  or  my  spirits  to  any  tolerable  level  as  change  of 
scene  and  place,  tho'  were  I  with  you,  my  heart  would 
anywhere  be  satisfied. 

I  have  been  dining,  and  have  returned  to  your  letter 
and  to  mine.  I  will  confess  I  am  surprized  you  could 
form  so  uncomfortable  a  plan  as  our  meeting  at  "  la 
clocke "  (le  nom  seul  men  degoMe)  higgledy-piggledy  with 
your  father  and  sister,  sans  compter  two  or  three  chance 
friends  who  would  certainly  find  you  out  and  be  so  glad 
to  see  you  and  you  so  glad  to  see  them  for  a  few  days  ! 
and  in  this  hurry  and  bustle  to  settle  and  fix  {Quot 
homines,  tot  sententiae)  where  we  were  to  go.  I  think 
you  could  not  mean  this,  tho'  such  the  words  are.  // 
you  did,  it  proves  what,  Heaven  is  my  judge,  I  most 
wish,  the  goodness  of  your  health  and  spirits. 


Tuesday,  March  29. 

I  must  now  go  to  business,  lest  even  with  my 
double  letter  I  should  not  find  room  for  what  I  have 
to  say.  First,  of  the  war  I  shall  say  no  more  till 
some  further  circumstance  that  is  material  shall  arise. 
It  is  now  the  general  opinion  (and  you  know  always 
was  mine)  that  it  will  not  take  place  (tho'  some 
differ)  and  we  will  go  on  as  if  the  business  was  settled, 
tho'  the  negotiations  for  aught  anyone  knows  (for 
the  same  mystery  continues)  last  a  long  time.  Then  I 
was  twice  at  Strawberry  Hill,  and  went  over  to  your 
house,  saw  all  was  well.  The  last  time  your  gardener 
came  over  to  me  and  semed  very  uneasy  at-the  expence 
your  horses  are,  of  which  he  said  he  thought  you  did 


'  AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     241 

not  know,  and  that  it  would  vex  you.  He  added,  that 
should  you  wish  to  put  them  into  Bushey  Park,  it  was 
during  the  summer  five  shillings  per  head  per  week. 
You  know,  tho'  Alex,  may,  I  do  not  grudge  the  poor 
things  a  bite  in  my  field,  but  the  matter  of  hay  is  a 
serious  consideration,  if  your  house  at  Strawberry  Hill 
should  be  let  by  the  year,  particularly.  Do  turn  this 
over  in  your  mind  and  let  me  have  your  determination, 
as  soon  as  possible,  as  should  you  determine  to  part 
with  both  or  either  of  them,  you  may  rely  on  me  for 
doing  it  as  if  they  were  my  own.  I  know  the  manage- 
ment necessary  for  your  chaise-horse,  but,  to  be  sure, 
keeping  two  horses  quite  useless  for  two  years,  perhaps, 
may  not  be  what  you  may  think  worth  while.  I  know, 
however,  your  reason,  and  you  will  of  course  do  what 
you  think  most  advisable.  I  am  in  all  things  pleased 
with  your  gardener.  He  always  looks  composed  and  I 
find  him  at  his  work,  and  he  seems  quite  to  have  your 
interests  at  heart  and  enquires  kindly  after  you  in  par- 
ticular. This  is  well.  Then  there  is  in  my  stables  here 
a  certain  old  harness  that  Walter,  I  perceive,  has  set 
his  eye  upon  and  says  it  cannot  be  used  again  with 
safety.     Give  me  also  your  orders  about  that. 

Mrs.  Hervey  threatens  going  abroad  and  talks  about 
Nice,  but  she  is  not  determined.  .  .  .  As  to  your  sentimental 
soldier,  he  certainly  will,  probably  has  fallen  in  love  with 
you.  Whether  you  will  fall  in  love  with  him  or  not  I 
know  not,  as  I  know  not  him  but  I  do  you.  Don't  be 
surprized  at  my  settling  this — I  read  only  novels,  alas ! 
too  truly  have  been  able  hitherto  to  read  nothing  else. 

Farewell,  my  only  hope  and  comfort  on  earth.  How 
I  do  long  this  seeming  misunderstanding  should  cease 
in  our  letters  and  we  not  to  be  answering  each  other  at 
cross  purposes.     Heaven  bless  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  51. 


242  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

Thursday,  March  30,  1803. 

You  will  be  certain  before  now,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
that  the  idea  of  my  being  the  least  careless  with  regard 
to  such  a  valuable,  amiable,  clever  correspondent  ought 
not  to  have  been  admitted,  for  you  will  have  received 
my  letter  of  the  nth  of  February  before  your  answer 
to  that  of  January  the  18th  had  reached  me.  That  most 
agreeable  answer  I  found  upon  my  table  on  my  return 
from  the  Queen's  House  *  Tuesday  night,  and  read  it 
before  I  went  to  sleep,  and  it  was  not  of  a  kind  to 
inspire  drowsiness.  If  Lady  Douglas  writes  to-day 
most  part  of  my  intelligence  will  be  better  expressed. 
However,  I  encourage  myself  never  to  suppose  others 
may  be  writing  the  same  day,  for  that  often  causes 
delay  to  the  absent,  and  sometimes  news,  or  at  least 
chit  chat  never  is  sent  at  all,  but  puts  me  in  mind  of  the 
old  two  stools. — So  here  goes. 

The  Duke  of  Queensberry  2  died  yesterday  morning. 
I  have  not  yet  heard  whether  he  has  left  a  will.  The 
Duke  of  Buccleuch,3  I  have  always  been  told,  is  heir  to 
a  great  deal,  and  I  know  Lord  Douglas  gets  the  Aimes- 
bury  Estate,  which  I  have  always  heard  called  above 
three  thousand  a  year.  I  wish  it  were  double,  or  even 
treble,  with  all  my  heart. — Lady  Andover  is  gone  too. 
Of  course,  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Howard,  will  inherit 
all  that  she  had  not  already  given  up  of  her  very  con- 
siderable fortune  to  her.  Another  very  great  death 
happened   on  Tuesday  morning,  that  of   the  Duke  of 

1  Buckingham  House  (now  Buckingham  Palace)  was  called  "  The  Queen's 
House,"  when  George  III  and  his  consort  lived  there.  It  was  settled  as  a 
dower-house  upon  her  Majesty. 

8  The  report  was  premature.  William  Douglas,  fourth  Duke  of  Queens- 
berry,  survived  until  18 10. 

*  Henry  Scott,  third  Duke  of  Buccleuch  (1 746-1 81 2),  who  succeeded  to 
the  dukedom  of  Queensberry. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     243 

Bridgewater.  What  I  am  going  to  write  will  show  what 
an  immense  property  he  has  left  behind  him.  He  has 
given  about  £30,000  a  year  landed  estate  to  General 
Egerton  (now  Earl  of  Bridgewater)  and  six  hundred 
thousand  pounds  in  money — all  this  in  his  own  disposal 
— and  forty  thousand  pounds  to  his  brother,  who  is, 
I  believe,  a  clergyman ;  to  Lady  Louisa  Macdonald l 
and  Lady  Ann  Vernon  each  ten  thousand  pounds  :  to 
Lord  Gower  he  leaves  the  navigation,  that  is  the  income 
of  it,  the  management  of  the  concern  being  put  in 
trustees'  hands.  His  house  in  town  all  strictly  entailed 
(but  to  him  for  his  life),  the  pictures,  Library,  &c,  as 
heirlooms,  and  then  to  his  second  and  younger  sons 
successively,  and  their  sons,  excluding  whoever  may  be 
Marquis  of  Stafford,  his  intention  being  to  make  a  new 
family,  for  whoever  has  it  is  to  take  the  name  of 
Egerton. 

Friday,  March  1 1 . 

I  was  so  interrupted,  and  at  last  had  Lord  Sligo 2 
till  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dining  out,  that,  tho'  vexed, 
I  could  not  help  myself,  but  was  forced  to  submit  and 
now  go  on  where'  I  left  off  yesterday. — Lord  Gower's 
sons  failing,  it  goes  through  a  long  specified  Intail  to 
the  sons  of  his  three  nieces,  and  in  case  of  failure  there 
comes  back,  I  heard  yesterday,  to  Lord  Strathnairn,  but 
that  seems  a  contradiction.  However,  it  is  no  great 
matter,  for  besides  Lady  Carlisle's  and  Lady  Louisa 
[Macdonald]'s  younger  sons,  Lady  Ann  Vernon  has  eight 
or  nine.  The  Navigation  is  reckoned  a  clear  seventy-four 
thousand  a  year  :  the  last  year  it  produced  eighty  and  is 
supposed  to  be  improving. 

The  Duke  of  Queensberry  has  been  so  near  gone 
that  his  death  was  in  yesterday's  newspapers, — contra- 

1  Louisa  (d.  1827),  daughter  of  the  second  Earl  Gower,  married  in  1777 
Sir  Archibald  Macdonald,  Chief  Baron  of  the  Exchequer. 
*  John  Denis,  first  Marquis  of  Sligo  (1756-1809). 


244  BERRY    PAPERS 

dieted, — then  I  was  assured  he  had  departed  early  in  the 
morning,  but  before  I  left  home  I  found  he  lived,  and 
some  said  would  recover.  Just  now  I  sent  to  Lord 
Douglas's  servants  :  they  have  heard  nothing  this  morn- 
ing, and  so  his  history  stops  unless  I  learn  more  before 
post  time.  I  must  not  write  what  is  just  now  going  on 
in  the  political  world,  further  than  to  say  if  all  kingdoms 
wish  as  much  for  peace  as  I  do,  you  will  need  no  pass- 
port when  you  return  to  us. 

I  think  Mrs.  Darner  is  likely  to  accept  of  the  invita- 
tion I  understand  you  have  sent  her.1  Not  that  I  have 
had  any  opportunity  of  learning  her  intentions,  but  her 
friendship  for  you,  and  her  natural  disposition  to  see 
and  know  every  thing  makes  me  so  judge,  and  I  will 
venture  to  say  further,  it  is  the  best  determination  she 
can  take,  if  we  can  but  keep  in  friendship  with  our 
neighbours. 

I  knew  of  poor  Lady  Aylesbury's  death  when  I  wrote 
my  18  of  January  Letter,  and  meant  my  finishing  manner 
of  mentioning  her  might  be  a  sort  of  preparation  for 
you.  I  am  happy  to  find  Nice  air  has  conquered  the 
mischief  you  acquired,  occasioned  by  the  sad  news, 
more  to  be  lamented  at  her  age  on  her  Daughter's 
account  than  her  own. 

The  Bessboroughs  and  Morpeths  arrived  in  Town 
on  Tuesday  after  having  been  detained  at  Calais  by 
contrary  and  blowing  winds  since  the  Friday  sen'  night 
before:  all  well.  I  have  lived  almost  at  Devonshire 
House  for  above  this  month  past,  in  a  very  quiet  way ; 
hardly  any  body,  and  generally  only  one  whist  party, 
some  men,  and  those  not  many,  supping  (I  always  come 
away  at  that  time),  and  Lady  Spencer,  who  has  been 
there  above  a  month,  retiring  too  then.  She  has  been 
extremely  unwell ;  the  terrible  North-east  weather 
added  to  the  Influenza  (a  more  universal  one  was  never 
known)  having  prevented  her  recovering  from  a  very 

1  Mary  Berry's  invitation  to  Mrs.  Damer  to  join  her  abroad. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     245 

severe  attack  of  more  than  a  common  cold  which  she 
brought  up  from  the  country ;  but  though  the  weather 
is  still  severe  and  a  fall  of  snow  last  night,  she  begins 
to  feel  getting  about  and  in  health  again.  She  now 
stays  on  in  Town  till  after  Lady  Cork's *  lying-in. — Lady 
Pelham  has  lost  the  finest  boy  that  ever  was,  after  a 
few  days'  fits.  He  ended  in  one  Dr.  Pitcairn  called 
apoplectic.  She  is  within  a  couple  of  months  of  her 
time,  and  both  she  and  Lord  Pelham  have  exerted  them- 
selves wonderfully  and  showed  great  fortitude. — Lady 
H.  Cavendish,2  I  believe,  will  be  presented  in  the  spring. 
I  think  her  improved,  and  the  manner  of  the  young 
people  dressing  their  hair  becomes  her.  The  Baroness 
Howe's3  eldest  boy  is  just  recovered  from  the  Measles, 
her  two  younger  children,  I  believe  I  mentioned  in  my 
last,  had  been  laid  up  with  that  troublesome  disorder  at 
Twickenham.  I  have  had  this  same  Influenza  that  I 
told  you  of,  in  one  of  its  ways.  Mine  was  not  an  attack 
of  cough  or  any  complaint  above  my  stomach,  but  I 
have  brushed  through  it  very  well  and  never  staid  at 
home  since  I  got  rid  of  a  blight,  which  I  believe  I 
named  in  my  last  Letter.  I  am  tired, — "moi  aussi" 
will  be  a  very  fair  answer.  However  I  should  go 
on,  had  I  more  to  say  than  that  I  am  ever  yours 
most  truly,  my  dear  Miss  Berry — not  dear  Madam. 
Verbum  sap.* 

1  Isabella  Henrietta  (d.  1843),  third  daughter  of  William  Poyntz,  of 
Midgham,  Berks,  married  in  1795  Edmund,  eighth  Earl  of  Cork  (1767- 1856). 
She  gave  birth  to  a  third  son,  John,  on  March  13,  1803. 

a  Lady  Henrietta  Cavendish  (d.  1862),  daughter  of  the  fifth  Duke  of 
Devonshire.     She  married  in  1809  the  first  Earl  Granville  (1773-1846). 

3  Sophia  Charlotte,  Baroness  Howe  of  Langar  (in  her  own  right),  1762- 
1835.  She  married  in  1787  the  Hon.  Penn  Assheton  Curzon  (d.  1797),  eldes 
son  of  Assheton,  first  Viscount  Curzon.  In  18 12  she  married,  secondly,  Sir 
Jonathan  Wathew  Waller,  Bart.     She  was  the  mother  of  Admiral  Earl  Howe. 

4  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  40. 


246  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Thursday,  April  7,  1803. 

Lest  you  should  suppose  there  was  something  in 
the  letter  which  I  said  I  burnt,  that  really  there  was 
not,  I  make  haste  to  say  that,  among  other  very  un- 
important matters,  it  contained  a  proposition  of  meet- 
ing at  Paris  instead  of  Brussels,  as  a  place  of  more 
resource,  should  you  decide  on  any  long  stay  at  either. 
I  added  at  the  same  time  an  injunction  not  to  mention 
this  to  your  companions,  should  you  see  any  objections. 
Your  letter  fully  answered  this  proposition  before  it 
was  made,  and  be  assured,  should  you  determine  on 
Spa  or  Brussels  I  shall  be  content  to  meet  you,  so 
that  the  essential  part  of  the  plan  be  not  given  up, 
your  passing  the  winter  abroad  with  me.  I  certainly 
should  prefer  Switzerland  to  Spa  and  Brussels  for 
the  summer,  and  therefore  hope  you  will  succeed  in 
engaging  the  Greatheads  to  meet  you  there.  In  that 
case  I  shall  beg  of  you  to  take  some  appartment  for 
me  adjoining  or  near  where  you  are  at  Geneva  or 
Lausanne  or  elsewhere.  Nay,  I  would  still  come  and 
take  my  chance  of  anything  future,  relative  to  the  war, 
obliging  us  to  return  here  in  the  winter,  provided  it 
remained  settled  that,  should  your  father  continue  in 
his  resolution,  we  still  were  to  go  on  together,  no  un- 
foreseen event  occuring.  I  easily,  from  the  account 
you  gave  me  of  yourself,  relinquish  for  you  the  idea  of 
Spa,  as  I  am  persuaded  that  being  where  you  like  and 
are  amused  in  the  summer  and  then  passing  the  winter 
out  of  England  is  what  is  required,  and  all  that  is  re- 
quired for  your  health,  and  you  know  not  the  comfort 
it  gives  me  to  know  (however  even  things  may  turn  out 
as  to  public  events)  that  you  have  and  must  now 
have  convinced  yourself  that  the  amendment  at  least 
of  your  health  and  spirits  is  to  be  procured  and  the 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     247 

means  appear  no  way  in  future  to  be  out  of  your 
power. 

I  yesterday  saw  Miss  Francis  for  the  first  time,  as  she 
was  confined  with  a  cold  on  her  arrival.  She  seems,  as 
you  say,  to  want  neither  sense  nor  feeling,  poor  thing  ! 
I  was  a  good  deal  affected  on  seeing  her.  She  spoke  of 
you  in  the  highest  terms  of  admiration  and  gratitude. 
Several  morning  visitors  intervened  and  I  then  received 
your  letter  of  the  26th  March  in  answer  to  mine  of  the 
nth.  You  will  find  by  my  subsequent  letters  that,  even 
should  war  take  place,  which  I  think  it  will  not,  I  by 
no  means  see  the  necessity  of  our  giving  up  our  plan 
of  passing  the  winter  abroad.  I  cannot  suppose  the 
English  will  be  ordered  to  quit  France,  as  there  appears 
to  me  no  reason  for  the  measure,  and  so  far  I  under- 
stand, every  civility  is  shown  them.  However,  in  my 
next  letter  (I  thought  I  had  mentioned  the  subject  in 
that  of  the  nth)  you  will  find  that  I  have  not  been  un- 
mindful even  of  the  possibility  of  unpleasant  circum- 
stances in  which  you  might  find  yourself  involved,  from 
this  sudden  occurence,  and  I  trust  that  you  duly  received 
the  additional  letter  of  credit,  which,  as  I  directed,  Coutts 
promised  to  send  on  the  Tuesday  13th.  I  shall,  as  you 
may  equally  like  to  know,  desire  Hoper  to  enquire  into 
the  state  of  your  own  credit  at  Coutts'  and  let  you  know 
the  result  by  Tuesday's  post,  as  to-morrow  (Friday)  they 
will  not,  of  course,  do  business. 

Miss  Francis  seemed  much  disappointed  when  I 
mentioned  the  plan  of  your  remaining  abroad  next 
winter,  and  not  quite  comforted  when  I  said  that  Agnes 
would  return.  She  mentioned  the  improvement  of 
your  health  till,  as  she  said,  a  little  before  she  came 
away,  when  you  appeared  less  well.  For  this,  alas !  I 
could  but  too  easily  account.  She  also  said  she  often 
lamented  your  over  fatiguing  and  worrying  yourself 
with  parties  and  company.  I  had  hoped  this  was  less 
the  case  by  your  letters,  but  so  it  struck  even  such  an 


248  BERRY    PAPERS 

observer  as  Miss  Francis.  To  be  sure,  I  should  not 
have  thought  you  would  have  taken  a  new  Englishman 
from  Nice  with  you  for  fear  you  should  not  find  enough 
of  them  at  Geneva,  as  I  never  saw  the  place  yet  where 
they  did  not  abound,  and  how  Mr.  Smyth  could  be 
"  useful "  on  the  road  I  am  at  a  loss  to  guess,  for 
numbers  certainly  increase  the  difficulty,  but  you  will 
only  scold  me  and  say  I  know  nothing  of  your  Father, 
&c,  &c. — and  so  I  have  done.  Pantaleone  Queensberry 
was  only  killed  by  the  newspaper,  not  by  the  Grippe. 
But  poor  Pantaleone  Hamilton  l  is  no  more.  He  died 
yesterday  morning,  having,  they  say,  for  some  time 
past  been  only  a  walking  shadow. 

Friday,  April  8. 

It  is  now  thought  that  Sunday  next  will  bring  the 
final  answer  from  Paris.  What  this  may  be,  I  find  by 
what  you  say,  you  will  know  sooner  from  thence  than  I 
can  let  you.  I  shall  be  truly  vexed  for  you  and  I  assure 
you  disappointed  for  myself,  should  you  think  it 
necessary  to  return.  That  is,  my  reason  will  be  dis- 
appointed, for,  provided  I  see  you  again,  the  languor 
and  melancholy  that  still  oppress  my  mind  make  it 
indifferent  almost  to  me  where  we  meet.  Of  one  thing  I 
am  convinced,  that  the  first  moment  my  mind  will  in 
any  degree  in  reality  begin  to  recover  will  be  when  I 
again  see  you  and  press  you  to  my  heart.  These  words 
I  believe  I  have  already  written;  no  matter,  I  repeat 
them  oftener  to  myself.  I  will  see  Mrs.  Howe,  since 
you  require  it,  for  what  else  I  can  a  do  with  her  "  I  know 
not,  yet  making  me  see  people  is  hard,  for  as  they  know 
I  do  not  go  out,  there  is  a  sort  of  solemnity  in  these 
intervals  that  affects  my  spirits,  commonly  at  the  time 
and  certainly  afterwards,  and  seems  to  me  to  do  no  good. 

1  Sir  William  Hamilton  (b.  1730),  diplomatist,  archaeologist,  and  the 
husband  of  the  notorious  Emma  Lyon  (Nelson's  Emma),  died  on  April  6, 
1803. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     249 

I  am,  I  assure  you,  harassed  and  prevented  from 
doing  matters  of  business  in  the  morning  by  the  number 
of  persons  already  habitually  received,  and  never  find 
my  spirits  so  calm  and  composed  as  when  I  have  passed 
a  day  alone.  I  have  only  room  to  add  Heaven  bless 
you ! 1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

Grafton  Street,  Sunday,  April  10,  1803. 

Owing  to  your  attention  to  me,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
I  received  a  most  kind  and  pleasing  note  from  Mrs.  Darner 
on  Friday  evening  and  containing  her  leave  to  call  upon 
her.  You  may  be  sure  I  profited  by  such  permission  as 
soon  as  might  be,  by  going  to  her  yesterday.  She  says 
she  is  pretty  well,  but  looks  thin.  My  reception  was 
just  such  a  one  as  I  could  wish,  very  gratifying  and 
showing  a  sort  of  confidence,  a  satisfactory  one,  and  of 
the  sort  that  put  me  very  much  in  mind  of  you.  She 
charged  me  not  to  neglect  my  intention  of  writing  to 
you  by  Tuesday's  post,  lest  my  letter  should  not  find 
you  at  Nice. 

Your  plans  and  hers  must  remain  uncertain  for  a 
while,  but  according  to  the  present  appearance  (I  can 
only  say  appearance)  of  things,  a  short  time  may  deter- 
mine whether  you  will  be  at  liberty  to  go  or  come  just 
as  you  please. 

I  make  no  excuse  on  account  of  not  having  answered 
your  last  sooner,  deserving  as  it  was  of  my  earliest  notice. 
It  arrived  at  a  time  when  the  hurry  and  worry  of  my 
head  was  such  that  I  could  only  attempt  unavoidable 
writing.  It  is  now  got  tolerably  quiet,  owing  to  sub- 
sided agitation.  The  Dowager  Lady  Spencer  was  un- 
well several  weeks,  but  going  home  to  her  own  air  and 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  54. 


250  BERRY    PAPERS 

occupations  has  confirmed  her  perfect  recovery,  except 
not  finding  herself  quite  so  strong  as  usual  for  her  very 
long  walks.  Lady  Georgiana  Morpeth,  amiable  as  ever, 
brought  her  fine  boy  here,  and  told  me  she  had  written 
to  you.  I  therefore  need  not  say  more  of  her.  Her 
friends  are  content  to  have  got  her  safe  home  again. 
Poor  Miss  Lloyd  had  a  Palsy  stroke  last  Monday,  under 
which  she  labored  without  seeming  to  have  much  sense 
or  feeling,  till  yesterday  evening.  Had  she  not  lain  so 
many  days  in  such  a  sad  state,  it  might  have  been 
thought  a  happy  end  at  past  eighty-one. 

I  find  Mrs.  Darner  writes  so  constantly  to  you  that 
it  checks  my  wish  to  send  you  all  the  chit  chat 
transactions  that  are  publick  ones.  One  of  a  more 
serious  kind  I  shall  leave  to  her — I  mean  the  melancholy 
end  of  Colonel  Mongomery.  His  adversary,  Captain 
Macnamara,1  is,  I  believe,  hardly  out  of  danger.  What 
a  lamentable  throwing  away  of  two  such  brave  young 
men  ! 

Monday,  April  It. 

I  picked  up  little  or  nothing  yesterday,  and  so  many 
of  my  friends  are  gone  into  the  country  that  my  levies 
are  much  lessened,  and  I  fear  as  this  Letter  must  ab- 
solutely go  to-morrow,  it  will  be  much  less  worth  send- 
ing than  I  intended. 

Lady  Harriet  Hamilton  is  to  have  Lord  Waterford. 
Setting  apart  his  rank,  fortune,  &c,  he  would  be  a  very 
desirable  match  (perhaps  not  for  a  very  dissipated  lady, 
as  he  is  naturally  domestic),  for  he  has  an  excellent 
character  and  is  perfectly  good  tempered. 

Mr.  Macnamara   is  recovering.    The  Coroner's  In- 

1  Captain  (afterwards  Rear- Admiral)  James  Macnamara  (1768-1826) 
fought  a  duel  at  Chalk  Farm  with  Colonel  Montgomery,  in  which  he  was 
wounded,  and  his  adversary  killed.  He  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey  on 
April  22,  but  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  "  Not  guilty,"  it  being  shown 
that  the  provocation  came  from  Montgomery. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     251 

quest  have  said  manslaughter,  but  he  must  be  tried  for 
murder. 

I  am  glad  you  had  such  fine  weather  and  enjoyed  it 
in  a  manner.  Your  clever  quotation  would  have  been 
a  proof  to  me,  had  you  said  no  more,  that  it  was  not 
lost  upon  you.  I  believe  I  have  declared  to  you  that, 
old  as  I  am,  I  have  continued  to  endeavour  to  be  pleased 
with  every  employment  I  could  at  all  take  to,  and  that 
I  have  as  constantly  tried  to  turn  those  employments 
into  amusements,  and  I  can  truly  say  I  have  found 
much  benefit  from  such  determination.  The  great  world 
is  rather  in  a  bustle.  Mr.  Pitt1  comes  up  to-day  to 
Mr.  Charles  Long's,2  as  near  London  as  to  make  little 
difference  as  to  what  may  be  going  on.  It  seems  a 
general  belief  that  he  and  Lord  Melville  3  are  coming  in. 
Farther  does  not  yet  transpire,  but  curiosity  and  anxiety 
are  upon  the  full  stretch,  and  the  parliament  being  ad- 
journed for  ten  days  gives  ground  to  suppose  it  is  to 
allow  time  for  arrangements. 

Tuesday,  April  1 8. 

I  was  interrupted  yesterday  :  one  person  following 
another  caused  me  to  stop.  I  have  since  heard  of  more 
surmises.  Till  they  prove  certainties  you  shall  hear  no 
more  of  them,  and  remember  that  I  cannot  write  again 
till  you  send  me  a  direction.  Lady  Camelford  is  going 
on  ill.  Her  present  situation  is  a  suffering  one,  and  a 
total  separation  is  a  better  alternative. 

By  the  Dowager  Lady  Chatham's4  death,  Lord 
Chatham5  gets  something  more  than  25  hundred  a  year. 

1  William  Pitt  (1759-1806),  statesman. 

*  Charles  Long,  of  Bromley  Hill  Place,  Kent  (1761-1838),  held  various 
ministerial  offices  ;  created  Baron  Farnborough,  1820. 

'  Henry  Dundas,  first  Viscount  Melville  (1742-1811),  Secretary  of  State 
for  War,  1794-1801,  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  1804-5. 

*  Widow  of  "the  Great  Commoner." 

6  John  Pitt,  second  Earl  of  Chatham  (1756-1835),  eldest  son  of  "  the 
Great  Commoner,"  and  brother  of  William  Pitt,  the  Prime  Minister. 


252  BERRY    PAPERS 

SirW.Hamiltonhas  left  hisLady  seven  oreight  hundred 
a  year,  and  a  few  hundred  pounds,  the  house  in  town  and, 
I  suppose,  the  furniture.  The  rest  of  his  estate  he  gives 
to  his  nephew,  Charles  Greville,1  and  if  he  dies  without 
heirs,  it  goes  to  his  brother,  Bob  Greville,2  who  married 
Lady  Mansfield,  and  I  believe  the  jointure  the  same 
after  her  death. 

Lord  Gower  sells  his  present  habitation  and  makes 
the  late  Duke  of  Bridgewater's  his  town  residence,  first 
building  a  fine  drawing  and  eating  room,  &c,  to  the 
park,  raised  to  the  height  of  the  picture  gallery  and 
Library,  and  moves  the  stables  to  Cleveland  Court ;  then 
over  the  coach  narrow  way  called  Katharine-wheel  yard, 
he  throws  a  bridge  which  leads  to  his  garden  in  the 
Green  Park.  It  will  be  a  very  complete  business  when 
finished. 

General  David  Dundas  3  has  the  red  ribbon  vacated 
by  the  death  of  Sir  William  Hamilton. 

I  have  nothing  more  to  add,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
but  respects  to  Mr.  Berry,  love  to  Agnes  and  to  assure 
you,  I  am, — Ever  sincerely  yours. 

C.  H.4 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

LONDON,  Thursday,  April  14,  1803. 

I  have  now  before  me  your  two  kind  letters  of  the 
30th  March  and  the  3rd  April,  which  I  received  to-day. 
To  begin  by  the  first,  I  have  to  say  that  if  you  overrate 

1  Charles  Francis  Greville  (1749-1809),  second  son  of  Francis,  first  Earl 
of  Warwick.     He  died  unmarried. 

*  Robert  Fulke  Greville  (1751-1824),  married  (1797)  Louisa,  Countess  of 
Mansfield  (in  her  own  right). 

*  General  Sir  David  Dundas  (1755-1820),  Commander-in-Chief,  1809- 
1811. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  42. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     253 

my  care  and  attention  (for  the  letter  of  6th  was,  as  I 
said,  nothing  else)  you  cannot  overrate,  tho'  you  may 
over-value,  the  truth  and  sincerity  of  my  affection  for 
you.  I  would  not  on  any  account  have  you  return  me 
the  letter  till  you  see  me  ;  remember  I  enjoin  this.  Still 
less  should  I  ever  give  a  direction  for  a  note  of  yours  not  to 
be  honoured  by  my  banker, — not  that  I  mistake  what  you 
say  for  anything  but  mere  matter  of  form,  always  in  my 
opinion  in  many  matters  to  be  observed  even  by  friends. 

I  am  glad  to  know  at  last  that  you  enter  into  my 
ideas  for  not  leaving  England  so  early  as  your  letters 
pressed  me  repeatedly  to  do,  tho'  I  always  felt  certain 
you  would  have  done  so,  could  you  have  known  all  the 
precise  circumstances  in  which  I  was,  unfortunately, 
placed.  That  I  should  now  have  unavoidably  been 
stopped,  is  nothing  to  the  matter,  tho'  it  is  so  far  likely 
as  it  prevents  my  having  in  any  degree  either  stopped, 
altered  or  interfered  with  your  plans. 

To  go  to  your  last  letter,  what  you  tell  me  of  your 
health  is  just  nearly  what  I  expected  from  the  unpleasant 
uncertainty  in  which  you  are,  and  the  alas!  not  improbable 
failure  of  a  plan  I  think  founded  on  all  that  is  most 
rational.  Still  I  think  we  shall  have  peace,  but  Mr. 
Pitt,  they  say,  is  certainly  to  come  in  and  the  Grenvilles,1 
and  I  am  told  that  this  accession  is  to  be  announced 
to-morrow  or  next  day  !  If  Fox  is  not  Minister  I  care 
not  myself  who  is,  or  who  is  not.  It  seems  to  me  all 
alike  blundering  on  from  one  incoherent  folly  to  another  ! 
and  without  a  shadow  of  knowledge  of  foreign  politics, 
or  any  treaties  except  their  own,  which  it  seems  they 
are  grown  ashamed  of — "  hinc  illcs  lachryma."  But  as 
they  made  the  treaty,  certainly  they  ought  to  keep  to  it, 
and  so  it  will  appear  to  all  persons  here,  and  hereafter, 
who  think  justly. 

1  Pitt  did  not  become  Prime  Minister  until  May  1804,  but  Fox  and 
Grenville  did  not  hold  office  under  him.  After  Pitt's  death  in  February  1806 
the  Grenville-Fox  administration  was  formed. 

I 


254  BERRY    PAPERS 

Friday,  April  15. 

To  Mrs.  Howe,  who  obligingly  came  again  to  me, 
I  had  told  your  directions,  &c,  but  I  shall  also  give  her 
where  you  say  in  your  last  letter,  as  I  could  see  she 
was  rather  disappointed  at  your  not  having  mentioned 
where  she  was  to  direct  after  Nice.  You  tell  me  not 
to  "worry"  myself  about  you,  should  you  be  forced 
to  return.  "  Worry "  I  may  not,  but  I  must  see  and 
feel  all  the  consequence  it  is  of  to  you,  not  only  on 
the  score  of  health,  but  on  the  score  of  what  forms 
the  very  essence  of  health  and  spirits  with  you.  But 
as  I  must  not  ruin  you  in  postage  and  always  fear 
being  interrupted,  I  must  go  to  business. 

Mrs.  Burn  did  receive  your  letter  ;  more,  I  have 
engaged  my  courier  for  a  month  at  all  events,  beginning 
the  first  of  June,  therefore,  should  you  be  obliged  or 
determined  to  return,  it  would  be  a  great  satisfaction 
to  me  if  you  would  let  me  send  him  to  you,  for  example, 
to  Lyons  or  Geneva  and  it  would  (which  as  you  have 
never  mentioned  I  conclude  you  have  not  done)  be 
very  easy  for  you  to  drop  your  stupid  brute  of  a 
courier  at  either  of  these  places,  for  I  confess  that 
a  good  courier  (and  I  am  persuaded  this  is  one)  appears 
to  me  a  more  useful  and  a  less  troublesome  personage 
on  a  journey,  than  a  Mr.  [illegible]  or  even  a  Prince  Louis, 
of  whom  I  begin  to  think  I  must  speak  with  some 
respect.  Don't  mind  my  nonsense,  but  pray  think 
seriously  of  my  proposal.  I  could  send  him  to  you 
by  Diligences,  &c,  and  you  would  then  keep  him 
just  while  you  wanted  him,  should  you  do  so  longer 
than  the  month,  nay,  he  is  here !  and  to  me  it  would 
be  as  broad  as  it  is  long  to  send  him  to-morrow.  It 
would  be  no  additional  expence  to  you  (this  merely 
for  your  father)  and  as  I  say,  a  great,  very  great  satis- 
faction to  me. 

Of  peace  I  am  sorry  to  say  I   doubt  much   more 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     255 

than  I  did,  but  talking  of  it  is  vain  at  present.  Should 
you  return  immediately,  you  are,  I  trust,  aware  that 
I  can  lodge  you  all  in  town  or  country,  or  at  the 
most  your  father  might,  if  you  thought  there  was  not 
room  in  town,  take  a  room  at  some  lodging  house 
just  to  sleep  in.  And  as  to  Strawberry  Hill,  if  you 
will  not  reckon  it  your  country  house,  for  you  and 
yours,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  shall  not  long  reckon  it 
mine.  I  have  planned  the  rooms  and  arrangement  and 
you  are  all  to  be  in  the  castle — no  tramping  to  the 
offices.  But  enough  of  this,  which  still  I  hope  may 
not  for  the  present  be  necessary.  I  need  not  say 
that  Constable  will  execute  your  commission  (should 
they  come)  but  that  I  think  she  can,  for  she  seems 
very  clever  and  intelligent  from  the  little  I  can  judge 
now,  in  these  matters.  Lord  [illegible]  has  paid  me 
my  quarter  and  I  am  in  no  difficulties  whatever  at  this 
time,  but  the  want  of  delicacy  in  his  conduct  I  may 
forgive  but  cannot  forget.  Your  poor  "  Stick  "  bids  you 
farewell.  It  can  be  a  support  to  nothing,  but  falls 
to  the  ground  unless  employed  in  its  own  service,  by 
you.     Heaven  bless  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Sunday,  April  17,  1803. 

I  feel  a  change  of  direction  rather  as  a  rapproche- 
ment which  is  more  like  a  sense  of  pleasure  to  me  than 
anything  else  can  be;  but  I  have  been,  I  know  not 
how,  more  painfully  low  of  late,  perhaps  than  at  the 
first  moments  of  my  grief,  and,  tho'  I  do  not  love 
making  these  sort  of  complaints,  as  I  think  you  seem 
seldom  to  enter  into  my  ideas  on  the  subject,  I  must 
add  that  I  have  been  worn  to  death  almost  with  seeing 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  58- 


256  BERRY    PAPERS 

more  people,  and  more  of  people,  even  those  I  had 
already  seen,  than  my  spirits  are  at  all  able  to  bear, 
often  and  often  not  having  an  hour  in  the  day  to 
myself  or  to  do  or  settle  any  business  I  want  to  finish. 

I  mean  to  go  to-morrow  to  Strawberry  Hill,  and 
to  be  chiefly  there,  as  I  feel  that  I  shall,  upon  the 
whole,  suffer  less,  certainly  less  unpleasantly  if  I  am 
left  more  alone,  for  I  find  invariably  that  the  over- 
fatigue of  seeing  people  prevents  my  sleeping  with 
tolerable  composure.  You  cannot  either  call  my  being 
at  Strawberry  Hill  being  alone  when  the  Staremberg's 
are  at  Hawck,  as  it  is  my  intention  to  go  to  them 
commonly  in  the  evening,  and  they  mean  to  settle 
there  on  Wednesday  sen'night,  and  I  come  to  town 
again  next  Thursday  for  two  or  three  nights. 

I  never  can  tell  you  how  kind  and  constantly  attentive 
to  me  Madame  de  Staremberg  has  been,  seldom  missing 
a  day  coming  at  some  time  or  other  and  often  passing 
the  greater  part  of  the  evening  here.  And,  indeed, 
the  only  moments  I  have  ever  known  my  spirits  could 
in  the  slightest  degree  quit  their  sad  state  of  oppression 
have  been  some  of  those  I  have  passed  with  her.  Yet 
anxiety  or  impatience  even  to  see  her,  I  feel  not,  and 
it  is  surely  not  that  my  heart  wants  gratitude  !  She 
has  much  life,  both  in  ideas  and  conversation,  with 
sound  sense,  or  I  mistake  much,  but  her  spirits  never 
are  overpowering.  To  me  she  has  a  gentle  expression 
of  pity  void  of  affectation,  which  can  come  only  from 
a  feeling,  sympathizing  heart. 

Sunday  evening. — My  uncle  and  Lady  Frederick 
[Campbell]  dined  with  me,  and  just  before  they  came, 
arrived  Lady  Melbourne  who  never  comes,  as  I  believe 
I  told  you,  but  at  hurried  moments,  commonly  while 
I  am  at  dinner  and  between  gobbling  up  a  part  of  it, 
her  hurry  to  go  somewhere  else  and  her  wish  to  stay 
and  [confide]  something  or  other  she  feels,  I  suppose, 
a  need  to  deposit  in  a  safe  ear.     She  is,  to  be  sure, — 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     257 

no,  not  a  comedy,  for  she  often  makes  me  make  reflec- 
tions too  serious  for  that  sort  of  Drama;  but  thank 
heaven  they  no  longer  affect  me.  To-day  she  wanted 
to  look  over  the  plates  of  Devon's  JEgypt  which  Sir  J. 
Banks  x  has  lent  me,  and  stayed  below  with  her  daughter 
looking  at  them,  while  we  were  dining  above ;  but 
all  this  is  by  the  bye. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  tell  me  something  before  I  go  up 
to  them."  "Oh,"  she  replied,  recollecting  herself, 
"  the  negociation  with  Pitt  is  entirely  over." 2  How 
really !  which  is  curious,  if,  indeed,  if  you  do  not 
know  before,  you  shall  know  when  we  meet,  at  least 
what  she  told  me,  and  I  doubt  not  the  truth  of  it.  This 
ending  I  think  very  good  indeed.  I  mean,  any  ending, 
for  it  is  a  fresh  beginning,  I  am  sure,  to  my  hopes  of 
peace,  and  peace  she  says  it  will  be.  But  this  news, 
when  ever  it  is  confirmed,  you  will  know  sooner  than  I 
can  tell  it  you.  The  D.  of  D.3  was,  I  heard  yesterday  (for 
I  went  there  in  the  morning),  at  Strawberry  Hill,  the  day 
I  think  before,  nine  strong,  having  very  properly  opened 
the  castle  gates  tho'  she  had  no  ticket  and  the  Duchess 
left  word  with  her  thanks  that  she  wished  much  to  come 
to  see  me  and  would  come  over  from  Chiswick  (where 
she  just  now  is  or  was)  "  whenever  I  please."  Good- 
night. It  is  past  eleven  and  I  shall  have  my  sandwich 
and  go  to  bed. 

Monday,  April  18. 

You  will  in  future,  I  think  give  Mrs.  Howe  your 
directions  yourself  in  your  letters,  as  it  will  occur  to  you 
I  may  not  be  even  in  town,  in  which  case  I  must  write 
to  her  and  a  day  or  two  will  often  be  unavoidably 
lost,  but  for  this  time  all  is  right.  Your  house  in 
North  Audley  Street  is  yours,  as  you  said,  on  the  first 

1  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  Bart.  (1743-1820),  President  of  the  Royal  Society. 
3  The  ministerial  negotiation  between  Addington  and  Pitt. 
3  The  Duke  of  Devonshire. 

R 


258  BERRY    PAPERS 

August  and  I  have  desired  Hoper  to  be  mindful  of  the 
rent  at  the  proper  time. 

I  have  just  heard  that  a  negociation  is  opened  between 
the  present  minister  and  Mr.  Grey.1  That  I  have  no  ob- 
jection to  ;  it  may  end  in  nothing.  At  any  rate  all  now, 
it  is  allowed,  seems  to  be  pacifically  disposed. 

I  do  not  like  what  you  tell  me  of  yourself  as  well  as 
I  had  hoped  I  should,  your  headaches  affecting  your 
spirits,  I  mean,  more  (as  you  say  tho'  less  frequent)  even 
than  in  England.  I  fear  I  must  confess,  that  Miss 
Francis  was  not  in  the  wrong  in  her  ideas  of  the  over- 
fatigue that  you  put  yourself  to  with  seeing  and  living 
with  more  people  than  (so  at  least  it  always  seems  to 
me)  you  can  really  like,  or  that  can  really  suit  your  taste. 
And  then  never  giving  yourself  time  to  recover  fully,  as 
I  have  witnessed  that  too  often !  and  now  you  must  be, 
and  are  convinced,  that  all  these  sort  of  exertions  on 
your  part  tend  not  to  any  good  for  Agnes  ;  but  often  on 
the  contrary.  You  ought,  as  a  duty,  more  to  consult 
yourself  separately,  I  am  sure,  for  the  comfort  and 
happiness  of  both,  but  I  figure  you  now  with  a  vortex, 
absolutely  unmining  the  Devonshire  system.  I  am  not 
sure  whether  you  will  laugh  or  scold  me,  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  the  latter  ! 

What  H.  told  my  man  of  my  temper  I  know  not,  but 
certain  it  is  that  quick  as  I  may  be,  am,  naturally 
Servants  and  many  have  lived  with  me  for  years  without 
having  ever  had  scarcely  a  cause  to  complain  in  that 
respect,  and  tempers  that  are  merely  irritable  are  not 
irritated  without  a  cause  (tho'  often  so  by  an  inadequate 
one) ;  but  tempers  that  are  bad  find  a  cause  in  their  own 
imagination,  which  in  reality  exists  nowhere  else. 

1  Charles  Grey  (1764-1845),  eldest  son  of  Charles,  Baron  Grey.  His 
father  was  created  an  earl  in  1806,  after  which  he  was  known  under  the 
courtesy  title  of  Viscount  Howick,  until  he  succeeded  to  the  earldom  in  the 
following  year.  In  the  spring  of  1 803  he  ceased  to  support  Fox,  and 
Addington  made  overtures  to  him,  which  were  declined. 


6TH    DUKE  OF   DEVONSHIRE 

LORD    LIEUTENANT  AND  CUSTOS   ROTULORUM    IN   THE  COUNTY   OF    DERBY 

From  an  engraving  by  Edward  Scriven  after  G.  Haytcr,  Member  of  the 

Academy  of  St.  Luke's  at  Rome 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     259 

The  weather  has,  I  told  you,  been  more  like  summer 
even  than  spring,  but  to-day  not  quite  so  fine  ;  'tis 
commonly  the  case  when  one  goes  into  the  country. 
However  I  am  now  only  going  for  a  short  time  till 
Thursday  at  furthest.  Farewell  and  Heaven  preserve 
you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Strawberry  Hill,  Wednesday,  April  20,  1803. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  you  are  by  two 
shillings  a  week  further  from  ruin  than  I  announced  as, 
on  enquiry,  your  two  horses  are  only  to  pay  eight 
shillings  per  week  at  Bushey  Park,  and  your  Gardener 
says  that  at  home  they  cost  ten  now  for  hay  and  straw. 
The  weather,  as  I  told  you  in  my  last,  seemed  inclined 
to  change,  and  since  I  came  it  has  been  a  positive  storm 
from  the  North  West.  This  and  other  reasons  among 
which,  and  not  least,  is  the  chance  of  finding  a  letter  from 
you  there,  has  determined  me  to  go  to  town  this  evening 
instead  of  to-morrow  morning.  I  shall  be  as  quiet  in 
my  room  in  town,  I  think,  for  this  evening  as  no  one 
knows  I  came,  and  it  will  give  me  time,  a  commodity  I 
want,  as  I  mean  to  return  on  Saturday. 

London,  Wed.  evening. — I  was  interrupted  by  the 
carriage  being  at  the  door.  I  found  no  letter  from  you 
here  but  one  from  Mrs.  Cholmeley,  who  wants  a  direction 
of  you,  and  one  from  Lady  Douglas  who  encloses  a 
letter  to  be  sent  to  you,  also  not  knowing  where  to 
direct,  and  desiring  that  I  would  inform  her  when  I 
hear  that  your  plans  are  "finally  settled."  I  am  sure 
for  the  latter  request  she  ought  to  send  a  recipe. 

Parliament  met  yesterday  but  the  same  mystery  is 
kept  up.  Not  a  word  from  Ministry,  only  an  exhausted 
l,hoj)e"  (that  is  his  word)  from  the  Chancellor  of  the 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  58. 


26o  BERRY    PAPERS 

Exchequer x  that  in  a  few  days  he  should  have  it  in  his 
power  to  make  a  communication,  &c.  &c. 

You  are,  of  course,  in  the  same  agreeable  state  of  un- 
certainty that  I  am,  and  really,  it  does  grow  quite  tire- 
some. By  what  you  say,  however,  should  you  not 
have  any  positive  certainty  before  your  intended  time 
for  leaving  Nice,  still  I  think  you  will  move  on  and 
particularly  as,  upon  the  whole,  peace  seems  the  most 
probable.  I  wish,  as  I  said,  it  may  be  to  Geneva  or  de 
ces  cStes,  and  as  they  are  to  facilitate  your  plans,  that 
the  Greatheads  may  meet  you  there.  I  cannot  think 
you  would  want  Spa,  nor  do  I  think  it  likely  this  year 
to  be  a  place  that  would  much  suit  you, — in  point  of 
society,  I  mean,  as  from  obvious  causes,  foreigners 
cannot  be  driving,  as  they  did  formerly,  from  all 
quarters  of  Europe  to  take  les  amusements  as  well  as 
les  eaux  de  Spa.  And  as  to  the  place  itself,  I  believe, 
whenever  you  do  see  it,  you  will  think  it  as  little  worth 
seeing  as  I  do.  But  all  this  is  mere  conversation. 
Your  plans  will  be  made  and  formed,  and  so  I  would 
have  them,  before  you  even  read  these  remarks,  and 
what  is  more,  these  plans  will  be  made  and  formed 
most  probably,  not  exactly  as  you  yourself  would  have 
them.  You  must  do  the  best  you  can — I  only  hope  it 
maybe  "the  best"  also  for  yourself.  As  you  talked  of 
commissions  I  would  have  you  observe  that  I  shall  on 
my  way  to  you  probably  go  by  Paris  and  will  execute 
any  for  you  there  that  you  may  think  me  capable  of 
executing.  I  own  I  am  not  of  Agnes's  mind  in  that, 
for  to  Paris  I  always  like  going,  and  have  never  yet, 
without  some  reason  that  made  me  anxious  to  be  in 
England,  desired  to  come  away.  Good-night,  for  I 
mnst  leave  some  blank  paper,  to  be  filled  I  hope  in 
answer  to  a  letter  from  you. 


1  Henry  Addington  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  as  well  as  First 
Lord  of  the  Treasury. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     261 


Friday,  April  22. 

I  have  been  disappointed  in  still  receiving  no  letter 
from  you  since  the  14th  and  you  not  having  been  so 
well  and  comfortable  of  late,  and  my  wish  to  hear 
more  of  your  plans  (conditional  plans  in  case  of  peace, 
I  mean)  makes  me  more  anxious.  I  shall  still  despatch 
this  to  Aix.  The  last,  I  believe,  would  have  found  you 
still  at  Nice,  but  I  follow  orders  in  these  cases.  I  also 
send  Lady  Douglas's,  not  knowing  what  better  to  do 
with  it,  and  one  post  is  already  lost  by  my  having 
been  out  of  town  when  she  sent  it  here.  I  have  had 
too  a  letter  from  Mrs.  William  Lamb  with  the  same  sort 
of  enquiry  and  want  of  direction. 

There  seems  now  to  be  every  favourable  symptom 
of  the  present  continuance  of  peace,  and  this  I  think 
you  will  have  known  as  soon  nearly  as  I  can. 

Do  not  let  anything  I  said  about  Spa  weigh  in  the 
least.  If  I  thought  you  would,  I  should  not  have  said 
it,  and  after  all,  it  is  seeing  you  again  and  being  again 
with  you,  my  only  earthly  comfort,  that  can  really 
signify  to  me,  and  as  to  Brussels,  on  reflection  it  might 
prove  a  better  place  to  us  all,  taking  in  all  circum- 
stances, than  I  at  first  considered  it.  The  constant 
resource  of  a  Theatre,  always  pretty  good  there,  is  all 
I  ever  want  by  way  of  amusement,  and  our  mornings 
might  be  differently  disposed  according  to  our  different 
tastes,  without  interfering  with  each  other.  We  were 
last  night  talking  this  over  together,  Madame  de 
Staremberg  and  I.  Her  joke  about  Brussels  was  as 
you  saw,  supposing  you  "  Mondaines." 

I  have  been  seeing  Mr.  Lucan  this  morning  and 
settling  about  having  my  carriage  ready  and  the  little 
matters  necessary  done  and  a  seat  put  on  for  dear 
good  James,  who  would  break  his  heart  if  he  did  not 
go    with    me.     Pray  think   seriously   about   Constable, 


262  BERRY    PAPERS 

for  I  really  every  day  like  her  better  and  better,  and 
think  you  would  not  be  in  the  least  distress  if  you 
should  deign  to  partake  of  her  services  with  me  next 
winter.     Heaven  bless  you.     I  am  interrupted.1 


Miss  Agnes  Berry  to  Mary  Berry 

North  Audley  Street,  Thursday,  April  25  [1803?]. 

This  is  the  finest  weather  that  ever  was,  dearest 
Mary,  and  I  do  hope  you  are  enjoying  it  in  all  your 
country  excursions,  &c,  &c.  I  only  fear  your  strength 
for  much  of  that  sort  of  fatigue  which  I  fear  is  likely 
to  tire  you  still  more  than  evening  operations,  and  I 
gave  you  a  mean  scrap  of  a  letter  last  courier,  and  I 
do  not  think  I  shall  do  much  more  to-morrow,  as  I  am 
going  out  this  morning,  a  better  thing  for  a  head  (that 
tho'  not  aching,  is  not  over  steady)  than  writing,  and 
I  mean  it  to  be  well  enough  to-night  to  let  me  go  to 
the  French  play,  the  first  of  my  new  subscription.  My 
dinner  and  my  evening  yesterday  I  thought  did  very 
tolerably  and  I  bothered  my  guests  and  myself  as  little 
as  I  could,  and  I  had  plenty  of  men  and  plenty  of 
women  too  and  everybody  mighty  civil  to  her  so  I  hope 
she  was  content,  and  dear  R.  too  who  looked  with 
perfect  complaisance  at  the  Whist  table  with  her  Sebasni, 
Ld.  R.  and  La  bonne  Bourke !  !  There  certainly  are 
men,  women  and  husbands  I  most  happily  for  the  peace 
and  quiet  of  society.  I  think  I  shall  certainly  get  a 
letter  from  you  either  to-morrow  or  next  day,  but  there 
is  no  waiting  their  arrival,  as  mine  is  always  gone  hours 
before  they  come,  and  I  can  never  trust  to  writing 
the  same  morning,  for  there  is  always  a  something 
coming  to  be  answered,  or  be  said  and  when  one  is 
alone  without  a  double,  there  is  no  help  for  interruptions, 
and  I  dare  say,  writing  in  a  hurry,  there  are  many  things 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  60. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     263 

that  I  have  forgot  to  answer  in  your  letters,  and  one 
that  occurs  to  me  is  what  you  asked  me  about  bringing 
over  something  to  Anne.  You  may  please  yourself 
in  bringing  over  any  little  remembrance  whatsoever, 
as  you  know  it  is  the  last  thing  she  will  care  about, 
and  I  do  not  know  that  you  can  do  better  than  the 
silk  gown  you  mentioned,  but  I  do  think,  dear  Mary, 
that  I  must  go  your  halves  in  doing  as  much  for  poor 
Bab,  and  a  gown  will  be  the  best  thing  for  her. 


Friday  Morning,  26th. 

Well,  for  a  wonder  here  is  your  packet,  and  your 
letters  of  the  22nd  arrived  early  in  the  morning  I 
suppose,  instead  of  last  night,  so  that  I  have  the  conveni- 
ence of  being  able  to  answer  your  questions  by  the 
return  of  post.  Well,  I  must  say,  by  the  by,  that  there 
never  were  such  entertaining  letters  and  if  I  could  at 
the  same  time  have  you  here  and  keep  you  there  on 
purpose  to  write  them  it  would  be  perfection,  mais  quoique 
il  fait  choisir,  I  must  be  obliged  to  prefer  the  first.  As  to 
Fr^gonville's  arrival,  he  has  been  dying  for  an  answer 
from  you  ;  so  if  even  your  letters  reach  him  you  will 
not  be  long  without  hearing,  and  knowing  when  he  will 
be  at  Paris.  By  what  you  say  in  this  last  letter  I  rather 
suppose  your  Lady  Cahir  plan  is  given  up  or  not  likely 
to  suit  as  to  time,  &c. — but  this  fine  weather  must  make 
Paris  so  delightful  that  I  tremble  for  your  virtue  in 
returning,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  do  not  wish  to  hurry 
you  away  whilst  you  have  so  much  to  enjoy.  Some 
sort  of  enjoyments  that  have  to  do  with  the  feelings  and 
real  attachments  of  the  heart  you  will  no  doubt  find  and 
I  hope  feel  with  comfort  on  your  return  home,  but  you 
are  too  wise  a  woman  not  to  prepare  yourself  for  the 
great  diminution  of  general  interests  that  must  neces- 
sarily attend  one's  every  day  life  and  society,  compared 
to  the  one  you  have  been  leading,  and  moreover  for 


264  BERRY    PAPERS 

the  many  little  homely  worries  that  I  suppose  belong 
to  everybody's  own  home,  and  which  have  always  appeared 
to  me  from  the  habits  of  life  in  this  country  more 
oppressive  than  in  any  other,  and  which  I  suppose  is 
one  of  the  great  incentives  to  travelling  out  of  it.  My 
poor  father  had  a  most  foolish  dream  that  quite  dis- 
tressed him,  that  you  had  returned,  hating  your  own 
home  and  every  thing  in  it,  that  you  would  not  stay  a 
moment  here  and  insisted  on  going  off  by  yourself 
directly.  This  was  some  time  ago  and  I  really  had 
some  trouble  to  laugh  him  out  of  it,  for  this  is  the  last 
dream  I  should  ever  have  of  you.  But  I  say  again,  do 
not  tear  yourself  away  from  anything  very  interesting 
or  amusing,  for  that  is  not  the  way  to  make  home  look 
its  best,  or  those  that  love  you  happy,  but  I  rather  like 
a  long  look  out  as  to  times,  and  therefore  without  the 
least  considering  you  as  pinned  down  to  a  day,  when 
you  have  heard  from  Fregonville  and  do  begin  to  have 
any  notion  of  your  own  probable  motions,  it  will  be 
more  comfortable  to  me  to  hear  of  them,  whatever 
changes  you  may  find  it  convenient  to  make  afterwards. 
By  the  way,  I  think  North  Audley  Street  must  be  very 
much  flattered  by  all  you  say  of  your  parties  and  society, 
and  it  certainly  makes  me  feel  rather  bold  upon  things 
to  find  that  that  reputation  makes  them  even  out-live  in 
some  degree  your  absence.  I  have  not  ventured  or 
wished  to  try  my  strength  in  any  general  company  but 
I  have  certainly  had  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  society  and 
allmost  all  I  asked  willing  to  come  and  I  suppose  when 
you  return  it  will  only  be  how  to  keep  them  out,  which 
has  sometimes  put  it  into  my  head  that  I  half  wished 
that  you  and  my  friend  were  not  to  arrive  in  one  and 
the  same  moment,  however  delightful  that  would  be 
to  me,  because  he  tells  me  in  every  letter  that  his  stay 
must  be  so  very  short  that  he  hopes  to  have  every 
moment  I  can  spare  from  society,  and  I  begin  to  think 
I  shall  want  to  cut  myself  in  two  for  him  and  for  you, 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     265 

or  rather  to  save  you  from  the  fatigue  of  all  the  people 
who  will  want  to  get  at  you,  but  nevertheless  your 
arriving  together  could  only  be  I'embarras  de  richesse 
ou  piutdt  de  bonheur,  as  I  am  quite  determined  to  take 
my  pennyworth  of  interest  and  enjoyment  both  in  you  and 
in  him  and  to  let  the  world  swing  as  it  will.  I  am  not, 
however,  preparing  disappointment  for  myself  by  ex- 
pecting perfection  on  his  part  at  least.  That  he  has 
a  most  affectionate  kind  heart,  tho'  a  Frenchman,  and 
a  most  romantic  regard  and  remembrance  of  me,  is 
most  certain,  and  that  will  certainly  go  a  great  way  with 
me,  tho'  it  will  not  make  me  blind  to  other  deficiencies, 
especially  for  those  who  have  not  the  same  reasons  for 
indulgence  and  partiality  to  him  as  myself.  When  you 
have  seen  him  tell  me  how  he  is,  his  manners,  &c.  &c. 
and  be  good  to  him.  I  was  able  to  go  to  my  French 
play  last  night,  and  I  am  well  this  morning,  but  strong 
and  stout  I  am  not  and  I  suppose  I  never  shall  be  so, 
for  I  have  got  into  a  wicked  way  of  not  sleeping,  and 
talking  and  walking,  and  pleasure  and  trouble  greatly 
knock  me  up  ;  but  this  is  a  good  day  with  me  and  such 
beautiful  fine  weather  that  I  hope  you  have  the  very 
same  at  Paris. 

I  am  going  this  evening  over  to  my  neighbour  Mrs. 
Villars,  who  is  to  have  the  French  Miles.  Something's 
concert  at  her  house.  If  you  don't  know  who  I  mean 
you  may  hear  all  about  them  from  Mr.  de  Lowgas.  It 
is  guinea  tickets  and  they  say  they  have  got  off  four 
hundred,  of  which  my  guinea  is  not  one  I  promise  you, 
but  Mrs.  Villars,  in  a  dead  secret  (for  she  says  she  is 
allowed  to  ask  nobody),  has  begged  me  to  come,  and  so 
tho'  I  hate  such  operations,  as  I  shall  be  blocked  up  in 
my  own  house,  I  mean  to  go.  And  now  God  bless  you. 
I  wish  you  well  through  my  pothooks,  but  I  want  to  have 
done  with  you  and  get  out  a  walking.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  73- 


266  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

Sunday,  May  I,  1803. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — I  was  with  Mrs.  Darner  on 
Friday,  and  am  glad  to  tell  you  she,  I  think,  looks  better 
than  when  I  saw  her  before  she  settled  at  Strawberry 
Hill.  She  flattered  herself  there  would  be  no  politi- 
cal event  that  would  prevent  her  joining  you,  when  you 
were  become  more  stationary  than  is  at  present  the 
case.  Whether  her  opinion  will  prove  right  it  is  thought 
will  now  be  known  in  a  few  days.  Yesterday  the  public 
seemed  to  be  of  a  very  different  one. 

My  two  or  three  next  articles  of  information  must  be 
of  a  black  hue,  are  a  very  black  one  to  me.  I  am  within 
a  few  days  of  losing  a  very  valuable  friend,  Lady  Camel- 
ford.1  My  only  comfort  is  that  she  is  going  off  without 
suffering,  by  an  Erysipelas,  or  rather  a  fever  of  which 
the  rash  is  only  a  symptom,  and  in  her  weak  state  will 
release  her  from  the  danger  she  was  in  of  dying  of  the 
cancerous  humour  flying  about  her.  Lady  Harriet 
Hamilton,  Lord  Abercorn's  daughter,  died,  rather 
unexpectedly  by  her  family,  on  Friday  last.  They  had 
hoped  she  was  mending  from  an  apprehension  of  con- 
sumption ;  all  was  settled  for  her  to  marry  Lord  Water- 
ford  ;  and  yesterday  another  still  more  sudden  death 
happened  —  Mrs.  E.  Hervey,  who  was  out  in  the 
beginning  of  the  week,  and  several  of  my  acquaintances, 
were  engaged  to  go  last  night  to  a  party  at  her  house. 

I  have  not  seen  E.  Forster  since  her  arrival.  She 
came  in  time  to  see  Lady  Harriet  Cavendish  and  Lady 
C.    Ponsonby2   drest    for    their    being    presented    last 

1  Anne,  the  widow  of  Thomas  Pitt,  first  Baron  Camelford  (1737-1793). 
She  died  at  Camelford  House,  Oxford  Street,  London,  on  May  5,  1803, 
aged  sixty-five. 

*  Lady  Caroline  Ponsonby  (1775-1828),  daughter  of  Frederick,  third 
Earl  of  Bessborough.  She  married  in  1805  the  Hon.  William  Lamb,  later 
second  Viscount  Melbourne  (1 779-1 848),  who  afterwards  became  Prime 
Minister. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     267 

Thursday.  I  do  not  believe  the  other  Caroline1  will 
be  as  an  emigrie  carried  to  Court.  Craufurd  is  come 
home  also,  and  in  answer  to  my  enquiries  writes  that 
he  is  not  better  with  respect  to  his  feet,  but  has  had 
no  fit  of  gout  since  he  left  England.  I  have  as  good 
accounts  as  I  could  wish  of  the  Dowager  Lady  Spencer. 
I  am  stopped  going  on  in  this  newspaper  still  by  being 
told  I  shall  be  too  late  for  dinner  if  I  do  not  immediately 
go  dress. — I  thought  without  my  host  that  I  should  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  time,  but  my  two  nieces  (I  could  not 
find  in  my  heart  to  send  them  away)  have  been  sitting, 
I  believe  a  couple  of  hours,  with  me,  and  now  I  must  be 
gone  myself. 

Tuesday,  May  3. 

Till  this  moment,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  I  have  not  had 
half  an  hour  in  my  power,  or  it  should  have  been  at 
your  service,  and  now  I  must  begin  with  more  of  the 
same  hue  as  on  the  other  side.  Lord  Rivers  2  has  been 
on  his  death-bed  I  may  say  weeks  rather  than  days.  On 
Friday  it  was  expected  a  few  hours  would  end  him,  but 
his  strength  holds  out  wonderfully  :  he  feels  no  pain  and 
his  head  quite  clear,  and  he  feels  very  truly  the 
comfort  of  having  been  reconciled  to  his  son,  which 
event  took  place  three  or  four  years  ago,  and  he  attends 
him  now  with  the  greatest  attention  and  care. 

Yesterday  brought  the  account  from  Ireland  of  Mr. 
Conolly's  death.  He  was  brother  to  Lady  Howe. 
Political  intelligence  is  still  to  come,  but  what  will  be  of 
a  determining  kind  is  expected  every  hour. 

Lady  Douglas  is  very  well,  and  has  been  employing 
men  in  the  ticket  way  for  the  red  ribbon  Knights'  Ball, 
which  is  to  take  place  at  Ranelagh  the  2nd  of  June. 
The  installation  is  to  be  the  19th  of  this  month :  there 

I  Caroline  St  Jules  (really  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  and  Lady 
Elizabeth  Foster),  married  the  Hon.  George  Lamb. 

■  George  Pitt,  first  Baron  Rivers  (born  1722),  died  May  7,  1803. 


268  BERRY    PAPERS 

are  22  new  Knights.  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  ribbon  is 
bestowed  upon  General  David  Dundas.  It  is  a  very 
dear  honour,  for  it  is  supposed  the  expence  to  each  will 
not  be  less  than  five  hundred  pounds. 

I  was  so  interrupted  on  Sunday  all  the  time  that 
I  was  writing,  that  it  seems  to  me  to  look  very  unseemly 
both  the  first  page  and  half  the  last,  but  were  I  to 
attempt  to  throw  it  aside  and  begin  another  (which  I 
had  some  thoughts  of  doing,  instead  of  going  on  with 
this  Letter)  the  consideration  that  it  would  not  go  before 
Friday  would  stop  me,  and  that  same  consideration 
conquers  my  vanity. 

I  formerly  was  accustomed  to  believe  Geneva  and  its 
environs  a  most  delightful  town  and  country  to  visit. 
Many  drawbacks,  I  doubt,  must  now  exist :  however, 
you  will  find  one  circumstance  unchanged — the  pleasure 
you  will  give  to  your  friends.  Are  you  acquainted  with 
the  Cengats  ?  If  you  are,  I  beg  you  to  say  to  the  eldest 
daughter  (for  whom  Lady  Spencer  has  a  particular 
regard)  what  I  have  written  of  her  on  the  other  side,  and 
you  may  add  that  if  she  is  ever  impatient  to  hear  of  her, 
she  must  apply  to  me,  and  shall  be  sure  of  a  line,  though 
I  cannot  promise  for  much  more.  I  have  so  little  Letter 
leisure  and  so  seldom,  except  for  those,  such  as  you,  and 
a  few  more  that  are  unavoidable  calls,  have  the  power  of 
writing  exertion  that  I  must  in  future  give  up  having  any 
new  correspondents. 

Assemblies  and  Balls  are  in  full  feather.  I  visit  none 
of  them,  but  have  latterly  had  more  than  usual  amuse- 
ments of  the  musical  kind  :  I  mean  a  kind  of  private 
Concerts,  though  private  they  can  only  be  called  rightly 
because  held  in  private  houses,  and  the  numbers  in  a 
certain  degree  confined.  I  sit  without  moving  in  a 
corner,  and  can,  by  coming  away  a  short  time  before 
they  are  over,  avoid  difficulty  of  being  at  home  soon 
after  twelve.  Mrs.  Damer  has  been  so  kindly  attentive  as 
to  say  by  sending  to  her  House  in  town  I  shall  always  be 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     269 

acquainted  with  your  direction  when  she  is  possessed  of 
it.  As  I  am  so  generous  to  tell  you  this,  I  hope  you 
will  be  likewise  induced  by  the  same  good  quality  not  to 
curtail  me  of  one  Letter  you  would  otherwise  send  me. 

It  is  well  I  said  my  little  say  in  tolerable  time,  for  I 
have  had  a  heap  of  Idlers  and  some  other  visitants,  and 
now  must  finish  in  the  black  manner  I  begun,  for  one  of 
my  visitors  told  me  Lord  Coventry1  has  had  a  para- 
lytic stroke. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  tout  a  vous. 

Do  you  remember  what  poor  Lady  Aylesbury  called 
her  golden  shelf  ?  She  has  left  it,  with  the  china  belong- 
ing to  it,  to  Lady  Cecilia  Johnson.2 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Saturday,  May  14,  1803. 

At  last  the  Courier  is  arrived  and  the  long  doubtful 
business  decided,  which  you  will  have  known  before  this 
can  reach  you.3  War  is  now  inevitable  and  to-morrow 
Andreossi  leaves  London.  There  was  no  Parliament  sat 
to-day.  On  Monday  it  is  said  the  correspondence  is  to 
be  laid  before  the  House — a  Message  from  the  King,  &c. 
I  have  seen  many  other  wars  begun — none,  in  my 
opinion  under  such  bad  auspices  !  Remedy  there  is 
none.  As  to  myself,  you  may  depend  on  it,  if  I  can 
come  to  you  I  will.  I  shall  learn  by  your  letters  where 
you  are  to  be  when  you  have  settled  your  plans. 

Strawberry  Hill,  Monday,  May  16. 

I  had  gotten  so  far  when  Mrs.  Cholmeley  arrived, 
after  that  others,  and  I  had  no  more  time  to  write  that 

1  George  William,  seventh  Earl  of  Coventry  (1758-1831). 

2  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  44. 

3  Lord  Whitworth,  British  Ambassador  at  Paris,  having  presented  an 
ultimatum,  left  Paris  on  May  12.    War  was  formally  declared  on  May  22. 


270  BERRY    PAPERS 

day  nor  anything  that  was  otherwise  material  than  the 
remarks  I  can  equally  make  here.  A  message  was  sent 
to  the  Lord  Mayor  on  Saturday  to  announce  war,  but 
yesterday  Andreossi  still  had  not  left  London,  but  this, 
tho'  some  have  drawn  unfavourable  inference  from  it, 
means  nothing,  by  what  I  understand,  and  at  this 
moment  I  doubt  not  but  that  he  is  on  his  way.  The 
communication  they  say  is  to  be  made  from  the  King 
to  Parliament  this  day,  and  the  whole  of  the  correspond- 
ence made  public  immediately.  I  hope  by  this  post  at 
least,  letters  will  still  go  by  Calais ;  but  how  it  will  be  in 
future  no  one  knows,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this 
difficulty  appears  to  me  very  serious.  I  do  not  like  to 
name  all  the  ports  that  will  be  shut  to  English  vessels. 
You  talk  of  going  by  Holland,  if  I  come  to  you,  but 
Holland  is  so  entirely  united  at  this  time  with  France, 
that  it  is  a  thing  understood  here  that  when  the  French 
Ambassador  leaves  London,  the  Dutch  minister  will 
of  course,  &c.  &c. 

I  feel  like  my  old  friend  and  "  wish  I  was  asleep."  I 
do  not  mean  wholly  on  the  score  of  public  matters,  for 
war  is  always  interesting,  and  tho'  for  the  sake  of 
humanity  and  for  every  good  reason  I  wish  it  avoided, 
it  is  to  me  never  dispiriting,  but  were  it  not  so  little 
what  you  wish,  I  should  now  say  /  wish  you  here.  We 
should  together,  not  separately,  take  the  chance  of 
events ;  and  if  they  took  a  favourable  or  quiet  turn,  set 
out  in  the  autumn  and  pass  the  winter  together  abroad. 
As  it  is,  some  violent  blow  may  be  struck  before  we 
meet,  and  that  may,  for  much  longer  than  we  intend, 
prevent  our  meeting !  But  I  will  not  anticipate  evils, 
why  should  I  ?  They  come,  Heaven  knows  !  fast  enough 
of  themselves,  but  the  matter  of  letters  I  do  fear  will  be 
a  certain  and  immediate  evil  on  which  one  must  count. 
I  mean  this  altered  and  lengthened  course,  for  one 
cannot  flatter  oneself  that  Packets  will  be  allowed  to 
sail  from  Dover  to  Calais,  tho'  our  Captain  Black  has 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     271 

such  a  thought.  I  have  seen  him,  and  he  afterwards 
talked  (it  was  to  the  Voisine)  of  proposing  such  plan,  if 
the  two  Governments  would  agree  upon  it  for  mutual 
convenience,  but  I  expect  no  such  thing. 

When  I  talk  of  you  wishing  yourself  here  do  not 
mistake  me.  I  know  that  from  the  first  of  my  distress 
you  have  wished  yourself  with  me,  I  mean,  that  taking 
all  together  you  would  avoid  coming  home  as  you  say, 
yourself  if  possible.  Agnes  would  not  think  herself 
comfortable,  both  your  houses  at  this  moment  let,  tho' 
scarcely  you  would  not  think  yourself  without  a  house 
whilst  I  have  one  !   I  may  not  think  that ! 

I  on  Saturday  received  your  letter  of  the  2nd  from 
Nice.  I  do  not  like  what  you  tell  me  of  your  nerves 
and  your  spirits  being  so  much  affected  even  out  of 
England,  and  after  having  been  for  long,  as  you  have 
told  me,  so  very  much  better,  yet,  my  life,  these  tempor- 
ary reactions  must  I  fear  be  expected.  Great  delicacy 
of  constitution  must  at  times  be  affected,  and  you  feel, 
as  indeed  you  say,  I  am  persuaded  the  effect  on  the 
spirits  of  leaving  Nice,  a  place  where  you  have  been 
subject  to  fewer  uncomforts  than  you  are  in  England — 
parting  with  some  who,  I  doubt  not,  are  truly  sorry 
to  part  with  you,  &c,  and  all  this  I  perfectly  understand. 
I  shall  certainly  enquire  of  Dr.  Moore  concerning  the 
trunk  medicine.  I  believe  it  is  reckoned  a  very  strong 
one,  and,  therefore,  doubt  his  advising  your  taking  it. 
Not  having  seen  you  too  for  so  long  makes  him  less 
able  to  judge  of  the  propriety  of  it  for  you,  but  he  should 
speak,  not  /. 

I  waited  till  the  newspaper  and  post-time  came,  in 
case  of  anything  new,  as  more  favourable  to  tell  you, 
but  all  seems  as  I  have  already  told  you  above.  One 
thing  I  entreat  that  you  would  never  for  an  instant 
forget,  that  what  is  not  better  for  you  can  never  be 
better  for  me,  and  if  it  should  from  circumstances, 
appear  to  you  some  time  hence,  that  I  cannot  come  to 


272  BERRY    PAPERS 

you  without  manifest  objections,  yet  that  you  can  stay 
six  weeks  or  two  months  longer  without  difficulty  or 
danger,  and  bring  in  your  plan  of  taking  some  mineral 
waters  before  you  return,  do  not  hurry  back.  The  first 
moment  of  joy  at  seeing  you  even,  it  would,  be  assured, 
become  a  source  of  anxiety  instead  of  comfort  to  me, 
to  think  that  you  have  thrown  away  any  means  or 
chance  of  benefiting  your  health  or  your  spirits,  can 
never  produce  satisfaction  to  me.  Farewell,  and  may 
Heaven  bless  and  protect  you.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

Thursday,  May  19,  1803. 

In  our  present  situation  with  France,  my  dear  Miss 
Berry,  an  impatience  to  run  over  the  papers  relative  to 
all  that  has  passed  between  the  two  (alas !)  adverse 
kingdoms  since  the  treaty  of  Amiens,  which  were  laid 
before  the  House  of  Commons  yesterday,  is  a  natural 
impulse.  They  will  not  yet  readily  give  me  time 
for  any  other  suchlike  employment.  However,  as  War 
is  now  in  a  manner  begun,  I  guess  it  may  cause  you  and 
yours  to  leave  Geneva  very  quickly,  therefore  am  un- 
willing to  defer  till  next  week  writing  my  grateful  thanks 
for  your  last,  finished  the  29th  April,  which  I  received 
last  week ;  and  calculating  I  had  half  an  hour  to  spare 
before  I  need  dress  for  the  Queen's  Ball  (her  natural 
birthday),  I  am  glad  to  seize  it  and  thus  make  a  beginning, 
lengthening,  as  it  may  happen,  to-morrow,  but  deter- 
mined, long  or  short,  it  shall  set  forwards  towards  you  by 
to-morrow's  post. 

Lord  Whitworth  arrived  in  town  last  night,  and 
probably  General  Andreossi  landed  at  Calais  several 
hours  ago.  The  King  was  at  little  Theatre  in  the  Hay- 
market  Tuesday  evening,  and  was  received  in  the  most 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  62. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     273 

flattering  manner,  "God  save  the  King,"  "Rule  Brit- 
annia "  and  every  allusion  to  the  present  moment  that 
could  be  seized  upon,  met  the  highest  applause. 


4  o'clock,  Friday,  May  20. 

I  need  not  say  I  am  very  well,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
when  I  tell  you  I  was  not  in  bed  till  five  this  morning, 
and  not  in  any  manner  discomposed  or  too  much  tired, 
but  of  course  not  up  by  Cockcrow  ;  and  Lady  Pitt  came 
before  I  was  come  home  and  is  but  just  now  about  going 
to  dress,  and  return  to  meet  me  at  dinner  at  Lord  Sligo's. 
I  say  all  this  as  excuse  for  hurry,  &c.,  as  I  cannot  bear 
to  wait  for  another  post,  and  not  for  more  than  ordinary 
stupidity,  &c,  as  you  allow  of  no  such  say  from  friend 
to  friend.  Lady  Douglas  was  at  the  Ball,  but  neither 
of  her  daughters  ;  no  one  below  the  rank  of  Earl's 
daughters  and  Peeresses  were  there,  except  myself  and 
one  living  in  the  house  and  the  attendant  upon  the 
Princess  Sophia  of  Gloucester. 

I  will  now  look  over  your  very  excellent  Letter — not 
a  coax  calling  it  so,  but  my  real  opinion — and  see 
whether  there  is  anything  requiring  an  immediate 
answer,  that  I  may  write  that,  if  not  for  all. — In  return 
for  your  bragging  of  charming  weather,  I  can  only  say 
I  am  now  scribbling  by  a  good  fire,  and  go  where  you 
will,  except  in  great  crowds,  good  fires  are  constantly 
met  with,  and  have  not  yet  been  given  up,  unless  for 
two  or  three  days  through  this  advanced  season, — 
summer  it  cannot  be  called,  though  no  wet  weather 
before  to-day,  which  notwithstanding  is  a  welcome 
rather  than  a  warm  change,  rain  being  greatly  wanted, 
to  prevent  more  spoil  of  good  things,  and  already  too 
late  on  arrival  to  save  apples. — I  have  not  seen  Mrs. 
Darner  since  my  last.  She  is,  in  my  opinion,  all  you 
say,  and  here,  verbum  sat.  is  all  I  can  allow  myself,  for 
such  a  character  would  draw  me  on  inevitably  too  far 

s 


274  BERRY    PAPERS 

for  the  hour,  I  should  have  said  the  minutes,  I  have 
now  to  give. 

I  delight  in  Lady  Douglas's  simile  of  putting  a  mark 
in  a  book,  but  I  must  observe  that  when  one  has  the 
treat  of  such  books  as  you  read,  no  help  is  needed  to 
recal  one's  attention. 

Lord  Rivers  languish'd  more  than  a  week  after  I 
mentioned  his  state  to  you,  and  my  poor,  ever  to  be 
regretted  friend,  Lady  Camelford,  is  also  gone  and  left 
few  such  behind  her.  Lady  Spencer  has  been  in  town 
for  a  few  hours  to  visit  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  who 
was  seriously  (and  I  understand  for  a  few  hours  alarm- 
ingly so)  ill  with  an  accumulated  bile  attack ;  it  has  left 
her  weak  and  languid,  but  other  ways  quite  recovered. 

Only  a  few  moments  left,  to  say,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
adieu,  and  I  must  hope  to  learn  the  old  man's  proverb  is 
confirmed,  that  it  is  an  ill  wind  indeed  that  blows  good 
to  no  one,  so  tell  me  you  will  be  soon  in  England.1 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  May  28,  1803. 

Letters  positively  now  no  longer  come  by  Calais,  and 
the  first  accounts  were  nearly  true.  They,  however, 
will  probably  come  before  it  be  very  long  by  Hamburg, 
and  I  may  hope  to  hear  from  you,  tho'  of  later  dates, 
and  more  irregularly  I  conclude.  This  being  the  case 
and  at  this  moment  very  little  chance  indeed,  by  any 
interference  of  your  obtaining  leave  to  go  by  Calais 
and  Dover,  either  at  Paris  or  here,  I  shall  not  be  sorry 
to  hear  that  you  mean  quietly  to  remain  where  you  are 
till  you  hear  what  turn  things  take  and  I,  really  by  what 
passed  yesterday  in  both  Houses  concerning  a  motion 
of  Lord  Fitzwilliam's  and  one  of  Mr.  Fox's,  do  not  still 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  46. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     275 

wholly  despair  of  peace  being  restored,  in  which  case  I 
need  not  say  I  should  join  you  wherever  you  may  be. 
What  I  allude  to  is  the  very  unexpected  turn  and  tone 
of  Mr.  Pitt's  speech,  tending  to  approve  of  the  interfer- 
rance  of  Russia  and  portending  (joined  to  other  circum- 
stances), if  it  portends  anything,  his  coming  into  power, 
with  peaceable  views.  This,  together  with  what  struck 
me  this  morning,  in  reading  the  debates,  was  what  Lord 
{illegible)  told  me,  who,  poor  man,  is  more  than  ever  tor- 
mented with  his  gout,  but  keeps  up  his  spirit,  and  is, 
as  you  may  guess,  the  receptacle  for  news,  but  it  is  really 
in  the  political  way,  news  de  la  premiere  main,  and  I 
believe  him  very  little  prejudiced  on  either  side. 

Sunday  morning. — To  be  sure  my  two  brothers-in-law 
are  sad  cripples,  and  D.  saw  the  Duke  of  Richmond, 
who  so  kindly  when  he  can,  comes  to  me.  I  went 
yesterday  and  dined  with  him.  He  repeated  what  I 
told  you  above  and  had  seen  Mr.  Fox  himself,  who  had 
called  upon  him,  on  which,  when  he  mentioned,  I 
made  no  remark  but  was  glad  to  hear.  The  Duke 
spoke  in  favour  of  peace,  &c.  You  have  no  idea  of  the 
sensation  that  paper  in  Parliament  has  made  and  has 
certainly  revived  the  hopes  of  peace.  I  only  wish  all 
this  may  not  have  come  too  late.  Yet  Pitt,  Fox,  both 
nations  and  Bonaparte  for  peace,  it  will  be  hard  if  a 
useless,  cruel  and  unprofitable  war  should  be  continued. 
Should  this  be  the  case,  however,  and  that  you  still, 
after  proper  deliberation,  should  think  you  could  with 
any  quiet  and  comfort  and  sufficient  absence  of  anxiety 
as  to  events  that  may  most  certainly  take  place  in  this 
country,  for  on  that  subject  there  is  but  one  opinion, 
it  can  be  no  secret,  I  mean  an  invasion,  much  as  I 
dislike  a  long  sea  passage  and  the  thoughts  of  the  same 
at  my  return,  or  a  longer  perhaps,  I  will  come  to  you 
and  will  take  all  chances,  but  I  do  first  beg  of  you  to 
take  advice  from  those,  whomsoever  they  may  be  of 
whose  judgement  you  have  an  opinion,  before  you  decide. 


276  BERRY    PAPERS 

Italy  would,  in  my  opinion  be  the  worst  place  in  the 
present  state  of  affairs  that  we  could  resort  to  for  next 
winter,  but  this,  with  all  other  circumstances  relative, 
may  allow  in  the  space  of  a  very  few  months,  of  that 
I  feel  quite  aware.  I  took  the  voyage  to  Lisbon  for  my 
own  health  once.  As  a  party  of  pleasure  or  amuse- 
ment, or  from  an  idea  of  any  relief  to  my  spirits,  I 
certainly  think  such  voyages  would  out-weigh  the  ad- 
vantages, particularly  when  added  to  the  present  state 
of  things.  On  what  I  say  of  Italy  do  not  imagine  I 
mean  to  think  of  Nice  :  that  I  see  would  be  a  "tale  twice 
told  "  to  you,  therefore  not  answer  our  purpose  and  the 
extreme  badness  of  the  roads  becomes  a  serious  objec- 
tion. I  still  think,  if  war  continues,  and  that  you  decide 
to  stay  abroad,  some  part  of  south  France  (should  the 
English  be  allowed  to  stay  there)  or  Valentia  would  be 
the  best  places  we  could  think  of. 

Since  I  wrote  this  I  have  heard  I  know  not  how 
truly,  that  letters  still  go  to  Calais,  but  that  none  are 
allowed  to  come  from  France.  If  so  this  will  account 
to  you  for  my  not  answering  anything  in  your  letters 
you  may  have  said  to  me  as  alas !  I  no  longer  receive 
them.  I  am  expecting  Mrs.  Cholmeley  to-day  and  my 
uncle  and  Lady  Frederick  [Campbell].  I  fancy  on 
Tuesday  I  shall  again  go  out  of  town,  but  really  without 
any  other  reason  I  could  not  have  had  the  heart  to  have 
these  dear  good  creatures  till  I  saw  a  little  daylight  in 
their  distress.     For  the  present  farewell. 

Monday  evening. — I  know  not  exactly  how  you  feel, 
or  how  precisely  things  are  near  to  you.  To  me  this 
increased  separation  is  most  uncomfortable.  I  looked 
to-day  at  the  map  till  my  spirits  sank  below  even  their 
usual  level.  When  I  shall  hear  from  you  Heaven 
knows !  or  if  you  receive  my  letters.  It  is  reported 
that  all  English  are  stopped  and  confined  that  are  now 
in  France.  I  can  not  yet  believe  this,  but  how  dis- 
tressing all  this  spirit  of  violence  is  to  me,  not  being 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     277 

certain  even  where  you  are,  you  will  I  think  guess. 
Poor  Madame  de  Staremberg  they  say  suffers  much. 
They  say  there  is  no  cause  at  present  for  alarm. 


Tuesday,  May  31. 

I  was  very  uneasy  about  Madame  de  Staremberg 
yesterday,  and  I  found  the  Physicians  were  so  themselves. 
To-day,  however,  tho'  she  still  suffers  sadly,  as  she  can 
swallow  with  much  difficulty,  and  that  other  symptoms 
are  not  worse  and  that  it  is  the  fourth  day,  she  may  be 
considered  as  going  on  progressively  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  horrid  disease,  and  my  anxiety  is  a  degree 
relieved.  I  shall  not,  however,  go  out  of  town  till 
to-morrow  evening  or  Thursday  morning,  for  tho'  I 
do  not  see  her,  nor  even  indeed  go  on  the  same  floor, 
as  the  rest  all  keep  below  (M.  de  Staremberg  excepted, 
who,  having  had  the  disease,  can  be  with  her  and  you 
may  believe,  seldom  leaves  her,  for  such  true  affection 
I  never  saw  surpassed  in  any  man).  I  like  to  go  there, 
which  I  do  twice  a  day  and  know  by  that  means  exactly 
how  things  go  on,  but  if  not  worse,  as  for  some  time 
none  of  us  will  be  suffered  to  see  her,  I  shall  be  better 
in  the  country,  from  whence  I  can  return  when  I  please, 
and  most  probably  shall,  to  learn  some  news  of  my 
letters,  your  letters  I  mean.  .  .  .x 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Strawberry  Hill,  Sunday,  June  5,  1803. 

Amidst  all  the  wwcomfort  of  the  present  moment 
I  have  this  morning  had  the  comfort  of  receiving  your 
letter  of  the  26th  from  Geneva,  which  must,  by  the 
time  I  think,  have  come  from  Calais,  yet  that  passage  is 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727i  f-  64. 


278  BERRY    PAPERS 

what  they  call  stopped,  even  for  letters,  and  the  four 
last  which  I  mentioned  having  received  from  you 
together,  came  by  a  vessel  sent  by  our  Government 
with  a  flag  of  truce  to  Calais,  where  our  Packets  are 
still  detained.  You  must,  in  a  very  few  days  after  the 
date  of  this  last  letter,  have  heard  that  the  English  are 
not  all  to  be  sent  out  of  France,  but  those  of  a  certain 
description  detained  prisoners  of  war,  as  this  news  was 
known  here  by  the  1st  of  June.  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
of  you  after  that  decree,  which,  I  trust,  cannot,  how- 
ever, personally  affect  you,  but  which  I  think  will 
prove  that  war  will  be  made  with  a  violence  and 
acrimony  I  hoped  would  not  have  now  existed,  and 
make  you  see  it  not  very  advisable  to  remain  out  of 
England  long,  that  is,  to  attempt  passing  a  winter 
in  Italy,  where  you  would  be  so  far  removed,  and, 
as  I  have  even  thought,  likely  to  be  hemmed  in  by 
armies  and  perhaps  exposed  to  troubles  and  disturb- 
ances. Believe  me  most  sincere  when  I  assure  you 
that  in  saying  this  I  have  been  actuated  by  pru- 
dence, not  by  any  lazy  or  inert  disposition,  to  which 
you  may  think  the  state  of  my  spirits  may  have  in- 
clined me,  for  I  think  I  can  separate  these  sad  feelings 
which  oppress  my  mind,  from  what  appears  to  my 
reason  as  most  rational  and  best  to  pursue,  and  pass, 
as  it  were,  tho'  a  cloud  I  should  vainly  endeavour 
to  dispel. 

I  regret  your  not  having  heard  from  our  Chevalier? 
who  could  certainly,  from  Paris,  have  given  you  intelli- 
gence as  to  what  was  going  on.  I  mean  in  a  degree  for 
I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  events,  as  they  have  turned 
out,  could  by  any  have  been  entirely  foreseen,  but  I 
think  you  have  not  yet  seen  the  political  state  of  Europe 
in  the  light  in  which  it  will  shortly  appear  to  you  and 
this  I  perfectly  account  for  from  your  having  been  so 
many  months  away  and  wholly  removed  from  all  means 

1  i.e.t  "Le  Chevalier  "  Jerningham. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     279 

of  forming  your  own  judgement  of  things.  The  shutting 
up  of  Ports  against  English  vessels,  being  a  wise  and 
political  measure  will,  you  may  depend  on  it,  be  adopted 
to  the  utmost  possible  extent  by  Bonaparte.  Official 
notice  to  this  effect  is  already  come  from  Holland, 
where  Mr.  Listers  is  detained  prisoner — and  within 
reach,  as  one  may  call  it ;  at  this  moment  only  Ham- 
burg remains  to  us.  This  train  of  ideas  which  my 
mind  pursues  with  peculiar  anxiety  from  your  being 
absent,  and  the  difficulties  in  which  tho'  perhaps  not 
likely,  it  is  possible  you  may  be  involved,  makes  me 
earnestly  wish  you  were  returned,  while  on  the  other 
side  your  health,  spirits,  comfort  and  amusements  lead 
me  to  wish  you  may  find  means  to  remain  if  but  in 
tolerable  quiet. 

As  to  myself  tho'  I  must  of  necessity  give  up  setting 
out  for  the  present,  not  only  not  knowing  for  a  certainty, 
where  you  decide  to  remain,  but  whether  you  decide  or 
not  to  return.  I  am  just  where  I  was  as  to  preparations 
for  my  journey  and  could  be  ready  at  farthest  in  ten 
days  or  a  fortnight,  and  should  you  return  even  suddenly 
I  am  prepared  to  receive  you,  to  lodge  you — need  I  say 
to  fold  you  in  my  arms  and  press  you  to  my  faithful 
bosom.  But  you  alas  !  have  a  harder  task.  You  have 
not  only  to  contend  with  opinions  contrary  to  your  own, 
but  contrary  and  discordant  in  themselves,  with  temper, 
want  of  confidence,  doubt  and  uncertainty.  And  all 
this,  I  shall  not  say  comes  upon  you  while  unwell,  but 
makes  you  so.  Thus  it  appears  to  me,  tho'  the  bad 
weather  you  mention  having  met  with  in  Switzerland 
has  probably  contributed. 

You  will  see  in  one  of  my  letters  that  I  advise  you 
to  return  to  England,  wait  here  events,  and  if  favourable 
to  such  a  plan,  set  out  in  the  autumn  together  for  a 
better  climate,  what  and  where  you  please,  and  I  do 
think  this,  for  your  sake,  would  perhaps  upon  the  whole 
be  the  best  plan  you  could  adopt,  for  as  so  good  a  colour 


28o  BERRY    PAPERS 

is  at  least  now  given  for  your  not  separating,  Agnes  will 
cling  with  her  usual  pertinacity,  be  ten  times  more  out 
of  humour,  make  ten  times  more  difficulties,  see  ten 
times  more  dangers,  and  when  all  these  tens  are  summed 
up  against  you,  how  will  not  all  your  unfair  torments 
and  vexations  be  increased  !  I  do  indeed  allow  that  all 
your  rational  and  most  rational  plans  have  been  cruelly 
and  unduly  mar'd. 

Would  it  were  not  so  !  The  little  remaining  shadow 
of  peace  I  mentioned,  has  I  think  wholly  vanished. 
Mr.  Pitt  spoke  yesterday  against  the  Ministry,  thought 
them  in  many  things  wrong,  but  that  the  confusion  a 
change  by  loss  of  time  for  preparations,  &c,  would  grow, 
was  not  advisable.  Lord  Hawkesbury  was  in  great 
anger  because  Mr.  Fox  spoke,  I  believe  it  was  little  and 
did  not  (nor  I  conclude  his  friends)  divide.  I  say  no 
more  of  the  dear  Voisins  at  present.  I  hear  every  day 
from  some  of  them  and  that  she  is  going  on  well.  None 
yet  of  the  girls  (Leopoldine  excepted)  have  been  allowed 
to  see  her,  nor  do  I  yet  know  when  they  will.  This  being 
the  case,  I  should  not,  and,  as  I  said,  I  am  upon  the 
whole  better  here,  tho'  my  uncle  and  Lady  Frederick 
went  yesterday,  so  that  I  can  do  as  I  find.  For  the 
present,  farewell. 


The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  Sunday,  June  12,  1803. 

I  hope  you  did  not  put  your  letter,  as  you  intended, 
into  the  German  post.  Our  Packets  now,  do  not  go  to 
Cuxhaven,  nor  can  you  consequently,  at  least,  probably, 
as  things  are,  return  that  way.  The  French  army  is  at 
Bremen,  with  an  intention,  it  appears,  of  occupying 
Hanover  and  even  Hamburg,  tho'  it  is  expected  some 
other   arrangement   at   least,   as   to   the   latter   and  the 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     281 

passage  of  the  Elbe,  &c,  will  take  place  between  France, 
Prussia  and  Russia  ;  but  at  present  travellers  are  allowed 
to  go  thro'  France  by  applying  to  Paris  for  passports 
(such  as,  of  course,  do  not  come  under  the  late  restric- 
tion) and  to  pass  from  Calais  to  Dover.  Vessels  for  the 
mails,  which  are  allowed  to  take  in  passengers,  go 
regularly  to  and  from  these  Ports,  with  a  flag  of  truce. 
On  this  you  may  depend  and  take  your  measure  ac- 
cordingly, for  this  moment,  but  for  the  next  it  is  impos- 
sible to  answer.  The  Voisin  thinks,  moreover,  that  the 
permission  to  pass  is  thro'  France  but  in  general  not 
thro'  Paris.  Your  idea  of  Pyrmont  must  clearly  be 
given  up,  and  I  feel  much  to  wish  you  may  yourself 
think  it  advisable  to  return  while  you  can  do  so  in  an 
easy  way.  A  very  few  months  or  sooner,  must  make  it 
clear  whether  or  not  we  can  have  the  comfort  of  passing 
the  winter  as  we  wish,  but  it  is  in  vain  for  me  now  to 
think  of  coming  to  you  in  the  present  state  of  things, 
by  way  of  passing  the  summer,  and  by  this  time  I  trust, 
this  will  appear  obvious  to  you  and  that  you  will  not 
suspect  me  of  making  unnecessary  difficulties.  You 
must,  moreover,  give  me  credit  for  reasons  I  cannot 
always  give  you  by  letter. 

Mrs.  Cholmeley  dined  and  stayed  most  of  the  evening 
with  me  yesterday.  She  is  to  go  to-morrow.  She  seemed 
uncomfortable  and  not  in  spirits,  but  very  kind  to  me. 
Mrs.  Howe  also  came  to  me  for  an  hour,  and  she,  I  see, 
likes  you  so  much,  she  never  allows  herself  to  talk  about 
you  as  much  by  half  as  she  is  inclined,  and  that  is  an 
idea,  perhaps  you  will  say,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  a  true  one. 
I  yesterday  morning  saw  poor  Lady  Melbourne,  whose 
daughter  (Harriet)  died  last  Tuesday.  I  think  I  told  you 
she  was  ill.  Lady  Melbourne  has  certainly  a  good  heart 
and  strong  feelings,  and  miserably  affected  I  see  she  is. 
The  melancholy  deaths  one  hears  of  daily  is  quite 
shocking.  You  will  perhaps  not  allow  poor  Mother 
Fanny  to  come  under  the  head,  but  I  am  very  certain 


282  BERRY    PAPERS 

Lady  Derby  was  much  and  affectionately  attached  to 
her  mother  and  therefore  pity  her. 

Monday. — I  have  always  wondered  that  you  have  not 
mentioned  hearing  from  our  Chevalier,  who  certainly 
could  have  given  you  useful  intelligence  of  many  things 
public  at  Paris  as  they  occured,  for  to  my  ideas,  as  yet, 
by  your  letters  you  seem  to  have  known,  and  indeed  to 
know  very  little  of  what  is  going  on,  and  as  there  are  so 
many  lights  of  viewing  things  and  that,  at  different 
places  and  under  different  circumstances,  they  appear 
so  different  in  themselves.  I  always  fear  you  may  be 
influenced  in  your  plans  by  a  natural  disbelief  of  what 
often  must  appear  to  you  (as  it  would  to  me)  idle  stories, 
tho'  they  may  be  real  and  certain  facts.  Should  you 
determine  to  return,  and  thro'  France,  I  think  you 
ought  yourself  to  write  to  Perregaux1  for  a  Passport 
and  the  moment  I  know  you  have  made  this  determina- 
tion I  shall  take  care  that  he  also  be  written  to  from 
hence,  to  back  your  request  in  the  best  manner  I  can 
and,  as  you  will  think,  take  every  precaution  for  you  in 
my  power.  I  think  also  in  this  case,  you  would  do  well 
to  write  to  Madame  Visconti,  who  was  so  kind  and 
obliging  to  us.  She  very  probably  might  assist  you, 
were  there  any  difficulty,  and  I  am  persuaded  would  do 
it  with  pleasure.  I  am,  since  a  conversation  I  had 
accidentally  with  a  gentleman  who  has  had  reason  to 
know  about  this  person,  more  than  ever  confirmed  in 
my  opinion  of  not  writing  on  the  subject  to  the  Lady 
you  mentioned.  Who  this  Gentleman  is,  if  you  do  not 
guess,  it  is  no  matter.  Don't  trouble  yourself  about 
that.  Lord  Cholmondely  has  payed  his  paltry  debt,  the 
dividend  will  be  small,  on  the  whole  sum.  Such  as  it  is 
you  will  have  it. 

Our  taxes  for  the  war  are  coming  forward.  One 
hopes  they  will  be  paid  in  the  best  manner.  If  we 
must  have  war,  no  one  can  object  to  taxes.     It  appears 

1  The  Paris  banker. 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     283 

that  levied  in  a  different  way,  what  is  in  place  of  the 
Income  Tax  is,  at  present,  only  to  be  five  per  cent. 
Should  you  come  before  your  house  in  North  Audley 
Street  is  yours,  I  can,  as  I  before  said,  lodge  you  without 
the  slightest  difficulty ;  scarcely  a  preparation  will  be 
necessary,  and  your  Father — there  are,  I  am  sure  beds 
enough  !  I  now  sleep  below,  I  mean  on  the  ground 
floor,  as  I  had  intended  in  a  happier  time !  and  this  I 
find  much  more  comfortable,  as  the  two  rooms  I 
particularly  inhabit  myself  are  together,  and  I  am  not 
obliged  constantly  to  put  myself  out  of  breath  by  going 
up  two  pair  of  stairs.  The  dear  Voisine  has  continued 
to  mend.  I  was  here  interrupted  by  him  and  presently 
she  followed  herself  with  Leopoldine,  all  in  their  way  to 
Twickenham,  and  I  mean  to  go  myself  to  Strawberry 
Hill  to-morrow. 

Tuesday,  June  14. 

Events  crowd  on  faster  even  than  I  expected,  and  I 
grow  seriously  uneasy  about  your  not  being  here. 
Hanover  is  taken  without  resistance,  and  the  Elbe  shut 
up.  This  intelligence  came  yesterday  by  the  First 
Consul's  own  particular  cousin  {illegible),  who  also 
announced  that  the  communication  by  Calais  was  to 
end  on  the  26th  of  this  month.  This  is  not  newspaper 
intelligence.  It  was  told  me  last  night  by  the  Duchess 
of  Devonshire,  who  either  herself  or  Lady  Hervey  had 
seen  Lord  Hervey.  The  Duchess  says  that  a  voiturier 
comes  in,  as  I  suppose  you  know,  eight  days  from  Geneva 
to  Calais.  This,  could  you  be  in  time  and  have  your  pass- 
ports from  Paris,  would  be  very  easy,  as  you  are  two 
perfectly  unexceptionable  women  in  every  way  and  your 
Father  above  sixty,  and  to  return  home  I  could  certainly 
obtain  a  passport  for  Dover  here  for  you.  What  other 
intelligence  the  cousin  brought  is  not  known,  possibly 
some  propositions  of  arrangement,  but  nothing  has 
transpired.     The   King  came  to  town  and  there  was  a 


284  BERRY    PAPERS 

Council  in  consequence  of  the  arrival  of  this  courier. 
What  is  really  distressing,  is  that  if  you  continue  to  send 
your  letters  by  the  German  post  I  may  never  get  your 
letters  at  all,  and  it  will  be  wholly  out  of  my  power,  not 
knowing  what  you  intend  to  do,  whether  to  stay  in 
Switzerland  or  return,  or  by  what  route,  in  any  way  to 
assist  you  by  applying  for  passports,  &c.  I  wish  to  God 
you  may  have  taken  the  advice  I  sent  you  in  my  letter, 
immediately  after  I  saw  Edwards,  and  now  be  on  your 
way  through  France  !  but  this  I  no  way  expect  or  flatter 
myself  of,  and  now  things  change  and  may  change  so 
rapidly,  there  is  no  giving  advice  but  in  a  general  way. 
Would  your  reluctance  to  returning  to  England  had  not 
been  so  great,  not  but  that  this  reflection  is  suggested,  I 
fairly  allow,  by  events  I  perfectly  know  you  could  not 
foresee — nor  could  I.  Yet  certain  it  is,  had  I  thought 
you  less  averse  to  returning,  my  prudence  would  have 
acted  more  freely,  without  having  a  counterbalance. 
Do  not  trust  to  this  or  that  person  but  write  yourself  to 
the  person  I  mentioned  above  and  any  others  there  you 
think  of,  and  take  notice  that  neutral  powers  may  not 
long  continue  so.  When  I  think  too,  of  your  stupid 
courier,  your  father  who  will  not  be  of  the  least  support 
or  use  to  you  !  is  it  possible  I  should  not  be  anxious  and 
seriously  uneasy  !  Supposing  the  passage  from  Calais 
to  be  actually  wholly  shut  for  English  vessels  by  the 
28th,  I  can  not  see  at  all  which  way  you  can  return. 
For  Heaven's  sake  take  the  very  best  and  surest  advice, 
and  do  not  either  hurry  or  delay,  but  act  as  Prudence 
may  direct.  You  will  still  receive  my  letters  I  trust,  for 
some  posts  to  come,  in  the  regular  way,  and  I  shall,  if 
possible,  continue  to  write,  should  any  method  offer,  as 
you  may  suppose.  I  have  directed  Hoper  to  make 
enquiry  about  the  Packets,  letters,  &c,  as  he  sees  Lord 
Charles  Spencer,  and  I  fancy  you  will  by  this  post 
receive  what  intelligence  he  can  give.  I  tried  to  see 
Edwards,  but  he  is  out  of  town,  and  now  farewell,  and 


AT    HOME    AND    ON    THE    CONTINENT     285 

Heaven  preserve  and  bless  you.  I  am  really  well  in 
health,  and,  tho'  certainly  very  anxious  on  your  account, 
do  not  let  that  idea  add  to  what  you  may  yourself  feel, 
for  well  I  know  that  all  things  of  this  sort  appear  worse 
at  a  distance.     May  Heaven  bless  you  and  keep  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  68. 


SECTION   VI 

MARY   AND  AGNES   BERRY   IN   SOCIETY   (1804-1816) 

Agnes  Berry's  engagement  to  her  cousin — It  is  broken  off — Agnes  Berry's 
illness — Miss  Kate  Perry's  appreciation  of  her — The  salon  in  Curzon 
Street — Some  frequenters — Mary  Berry  and  Sam  Rogers — "The  Dead 
Dandy" — The  Berrys  receive  everybody  and  go  everywhere — Parties  at 
Tunbridge  Wells — Paul  Amsinck,  Master  of  the  Ceremonies — A  game 
of  whist — Mary  Berry  presented  to  the  Princess  of  Wales — Her  Royal 
Highness  at  Strawberry  Hill — An  intimacy  springs  up  between  the 
Princess  and  Mary  Berry — The  Battle  of  Vimiera — The  Hon.  Caroline 
Howe — Lady  Charlotte  Campbell — Mary  Berry's  edition  of  the  letters 
of  Madame  du  Deffand — The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith — The  Rev.  G.  O.  Cam- 
bridge—Lord Carlisle — Lord  Dudley — The  Hon.  Mrs.  Damer — Mary 
Berry  at  Wimpole,  Christmas  181 1 — Agnes  Berry  to  Mary  Berry — Lady 
Charlotte  Campbell's  letters — The  assassination  of  Spencer  Percival — The 
grief  of  the  Princess  of  Wales — The  Battle  of  Salamanca — The  Princess 
of  Wales  visits  the  Berrys  at  Tunbridge  Wells,  August  18 12 — Little 
Strawberry  Hill  leased  to  Alderman  Wood — The  Berrys  in  London, 
1812-1815 — Mary  Berry  goes  to  Paris  in  i8i6to  stay  with  the  Hard- 
wickes — Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Stuart — Her  correspondence  with  her 
sister — John  William  Ward — Lord  Rosebery — The  Greffulhes — Sir 
Robert  Wilson's  trial — Admiral  Linois  and  General  Boyer — Mdlle. 
George — Talma — The  Duke  of  Wellington — Mdlle.  Duchenois — The 
Due  de  Richelieu — Pozzo  di  Borgo — Talleyrand — Mdlle.  Mars — French 
society — Henry  Luttrell — A  letter  from  Maria  Edgeworth — Letters  from 
Mary  to  Agnes  Berry. 

IN    Mary   Berry's  Diary  for  the   year  1804  is  this 
entry  :   "  Colonel  engaged   to  marry  Agnes. 
Engagement    broken    off    in   the    spring.     Agnes 
dangerously     ill."     Lady    Theresa     Lewis,    when 
editing  the  Diary,  did  not  give  the  name,  but  a  writer  in 
the  Edinburgh  Review  in  October  1865  ventures  a  surmise 
as  to  the  identity  of  the  recreant  lover.     "We  are  not 

able  to  fill  up  the  blank  with  certainty,"  he  admitted ; 

386 


From  a  contemporary  engraving  in  the  "  Town  ami  Country  Magazine 
in  tlw  Collection  of  A.  .11.  Hroadley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     287 

u  but  it  was  no  secret  that,  towards  the  beginning  of  the 
century,  her  eldest  cousin,  Ferguson,  came  to  London 
expressly  cautioned  not  to  fall  in  love  with  either  of  the 
Berrys.  The  warning  naturally  led  to  the  catastrophe. 
He  fell  in  love  with  Agnes ;  but  for  some  reason  or 
other,  either  on  account  of  his  father's  opposition  or 
her  reluctance,  his  suit  ended  unsuccessfully." x  The 
man  was  Robert,  eldest  son  of  William  Ferguson,  of 
Raith,  Fifeshire.2  The  slighting  way  in  which  Mrs. 
Damer  wrote  of  Agnes  Berry  might  easily  lead  to  a  mis- 
conception of  that  lady's  character,  and  here,  therefore, 
may  be  inserted  a  eulogy  written  in  1849  by  one  who 
knew  her  well.  °  Miss  Agnes  Berry's  health  of  late  had 
been  breaking  a  little,"  Miss  Kate  Perry  wrote ;  "  but 
she  would  never  confess  she  was  not  well ;  with  her 
complete  unselfishness  of  character  her  thoughts  were 
so  occupied  about  others  that  she  had  no  time  to  devote 
to  herself ;  she  adored  her  sister,  but  also  had  a  great 
surplus  of  love  for  others ;  she  had  considerable  clear- 
ness and  acuteness  of  perception,  and  Thackeray  always 
maintained  she  was  the  most  naturally  gifted  of  the  two 
sisters.  At  times  she  had  an  irritability  of  manner, 
which  had  not  more  meaning  in  it  than  the  rustling  of 
an  old  elm  tree  when  the  wind  passes  over  it."  3 

Indeed,  the  same  authority  asserts  that  the  success  of 
the  salon  in  Curzon  Street  was  due  at  least  as  much  to 
Agnes  as  to  Mary  Berry.  "  I  often  think  in  future  years 
the  habituSs  of  Curzon  Street  will  look  back  with  that 
feeling  of  regret  to  the  days  which  are  no  more,  which 
is  common  to  all  who  survive  their  youth  and  middle 

1  Edinburgh  Review,  cxxii.  311. 

*  See  ante,  pp.  4,  5. 

*  Reminiscences  of  a  London  Drawing-room,  7. 


288  BERRY    PAPERS 

age,  and  to  that  little  drawing-room  where  night  after 
night  were  assembled  the  wit  and  beauty  of  London," 
she  said.  "  It  was  no  secret  society  which  met  there ; 
it  was  informed  that  there  was  perfect  freedom  of  speech, 
and  no  fear  of  informers.  There  was  a  freedom  from 
gSne  (one  might  say  a  comfort)  which  Miss  Agnes  said 
was  her  doing,  from  a  talent  she  possessed  of  arranging 
chairs  and  sofas  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner  ;  in 
fact,  there  was  such  a  charm  about  these  gatherings  of 
friends,  that  hereafter  we  may  say,  'there  is  no  salon 
now  to  compare  to  that  of  the  Miss  Berrys  in  Curzon 
Street.'  " ■  Of  the  success  of  the  salon  there  has  never 
been  any  question.  The  hostesses  had  no  axe  to  grind, 
either  political  or  social.  The  house  in  Curzon  Street  was 
simply  a  rendezvous  for  pleasant  people  of  either  party, 
for  literary  and  artistic  folk  —  it  was  pre-eminently 
neutral  ground — and  as  such  was  vastly  appreciated.  A 
list  of  their  guests  would  fill  pages,  for  every  one  who 
was  anyone  went  to  the  Berrys'  informal  gatherings  and 
a  haphazard  selection  is  sufficient  to  indicate  the  catho- 
licity of  the  Berrys  : — the  Starembergs,  (Sir)  Thomas 
Lawrence,  Lord  Erskine,  Brougham,  Lady  Shaftesbury, 
the  Abercorns,  the  Keiths,  the  Rosslyns,  and  the  Glen- 
bervies,  (Sir)  William  Gell,  Samuel  and  Lady  Elizabeth 
Whitbread,  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell,  Sir  Philip  Francis, 
William  Windham,  Lady  Caroline  Lamb,  Lady  Charlotte 
Lindsay,  the  Hardwickes,  the  Mintos,  Lady  Donegal, 
"  Anastatius"  Hope,  Sir  Lumley  Skefrington,  the  Charle- 
monts,  the  Duchess  of  Montrose,  Thomas  Moore,  the 
Carlyles,  Lady  Hertford,  and  Sydney  Smith.  Samuel 
Rogers,  too,  was  a  not  infrequent  visitor,  but  he  did  not 
ingratiate  himself  with  the  ladies.     "  Rogers,"  said  Mary 

1  Reminiscences  of  a  London  Drawing-room,  6. 


John  Hoppner,  K 


SAMUEL   ROGERS 
In  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     289 

Berry  to  Kate  Perry,  "  never  liked  me  much,  and  seldom 
called  on  me  except  once  a  year,  on  his  and  my  birthday, 
which  happened  to  be  on  the  same  day  and  same  year, 
and  I  was  told  he  said  to  some  friend,  '  Miss  Berry  and 
I  are  twins  ;  I  have  just  been  to  see  how  she  wears  ; 
this  is  her  and  my  birthday.'  When  I  heard  this,  I  went 
to  my  looking-glass  to  see  if  it  reflected  such  a  death's- 
head  as  his." 1  Miss  Kate  Perry  said  something  pleasant 
about  him.  "  Yes,"  Mary  Berry  continued,  "  I  have  no 
doubt  he  is  always  amiable  to  young  ladies,  but  an  old 
woman  like  me  is  a  memento  mori  to  him,  and  I  can't 
boast  of  his  graciousness."  2 

The  Berrys  not  only  received  everybody,  but  they 
went  everywhere.  We  read  of  them  at  Devonshire 
House,  on  a  three-months'  visit  to  Bothwell  Castle, 
the  seat  of  Lord  Douglas,  at  Guy's  Cliffe  with  the 
Greatheads,  and  with  Lord  and  Lady  Frederick  Campbell 
at  Coombe  Bank.  Sometimes  they  were  at  their  London 
house,  at  other  times  at  Little  Strawberry  Hill,  and 
occasionally  they  stayed  at  Tunbridge  Wells.  "  A  good 
deal  of  talk  with  Miss  Berry  about  the  agreeable  times 
we  passed  together  at  Tunbridge  in  1805-6,"  Moore 
noted  in  his  Diary  in  1838.  "Would  I  had  begun 
journaling  then  !  our  ever-memorable  party  consisting 
of  the  Dunmores,  Lady  Donegal  and  sisters,  the  Duchess 
of  St.  Albans,  Lady  Heathcote,  Lady  Anne  Hamilton, 
with   the   beautiful    Susan   Beckford   (now   Duchess  of 

1  Rogers's  cadaverous  countenance  secured  for  him  the  nickname,  "  The 
Dead  Dandy,"  and  it  afforded  the  wits  a  subject  for  merry  jesting.  Maginn 
began  an  appreciation  of  him  in  Preiser's  Magazine,  "  De  mortuis  nil  nisi 
bonum !  There  is  Sam  Rogers,  a  mortal  likeness — painted  to  the  very 
death  ! "  Perhaps  the  best  jest  was  uttered  by  Lord  Alvanley,  who,  in  the 
most  matter-of-fact  voice,  asked  Rogers,  "  Why,  since  you  can  well  afford  it, 
don't  you  keep  your  hearse  ?  " 

*  Reminiscences  of  a  London  Drawing-room,  8. 

T 


290  BERRY    PAPERS 

Hamilton)  under  her  care,  Thomas  Hope  (making 
assiduous  love  to  Miss  Beckford),  William  Spencer, 
Rogers,  Sir  Henry  Englefield,  &c.  &c.  Miss  Berry 
reminded  me  of  several  odd  incidents  of  that  period." l 
They  spent  another  six  weeks  at  the  fashionable  spa  in 
the  early  autumn  of  1807,  and  this  time,  too,  they  found 
many  friends  there — Lady  Donegal,  the  Ellenboroughs, 
Lord  Whitworth,  and  Lord  Erskine.  They  had  Paul 
Amsinck,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  to  dine  with 
them — "the  only  one  of  his  kind  I  ever  saw  very 
like  a  gentleman,  and  not  at  all  a  coxcomb " ;  and 
at  Lord  Ellenborough's,  Lady  Donegal  and  Mary 
Berry  played  whist  with  their  host  and  Lord  Erskine 
— "  I  don't  know  which  of  the  four  plays  worst,"  was 
Mary  Berry's  candid  confession.  Of  a  more  memor- 
able visit  to  Tunbridge  Wells  something  will  presently 
be  said. 

It  was  on  Wednesday,  May  31, 1809,  that  Mary  Berry 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Princess  of  Wales.  It  was 
at  a  reception  given  by  "  Anastatius  "  Hope,  and  the 
Princess  desired  Lady  Sheffield 2  to  present  Miss  Berry. 
"  Talked  for  a  minute  or  two  of  the  Lockes,"  the  incident 
is  recorded  in  the  Journals.  "  I  stood  by  her  chair 
till  somebody  else  came  up,  and  I  got  away.  I  don't 
think  she  was  taken  with  me,  as  she  saw,  when  I 
did  not  suppose  she  did,  the  moue  which  I  made  to 
Lady  Sheffield  when  she  first  proposed  it  to  me — the 
presentation — which  I  changed  for  a  proper  Court  face 
the  moment  I  saw  her  looking,  and  the  thing  inevitable. 


1  Journals,  vii.  241. 

*  Lady  Anne  North,  (d.  1832),  second  daughter  of  Frederick,  second 
Earl  of  Guildford  (better  known  as  Lord  North)  married  in  1798  John,  first 
Earl  of  Sheffield. 


■aigdtl.  Mackenzie  sculp. 

THE    DOWAGER    MARCHIONESS   OK    DONEGAL 

In  the  Collection  oj  A.  M.  Broad  ley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY   IN  SOCIETY     291 

The  last  dance  before  supper  she  danced  herself  with 
Lyttelton.  Such  an  exhibition  !  but  that  she  did  not 
feel  at  all  for  herself,  one  should  have  felt  for  her  !  Such 
an  over-dressed,  bare-bosomed,  painted  eye-browed 
figure  one  never  saw !  G.  Robinson  said  she  was  the 
only  true  friend  the  Prince  of  Wales  had,  as  she  went 
about  justifying  his  conduct."  This  estimate  of  his 
Royal  Highness  was,  however,  soon  modified.  On 
August  8,  the  Princess  went  to  see  Strawberry  Hill,  and 
hearing  that  the  Berrys  were  in  the  house,  asked  for 
them.  "  The  Princess  talked  a  great  deal  more  than 
she  looked  at  anything,  and  seemed  pleased  to  have 
more  people  to  talk  to  ;  the  pictures,  &c,  of  the  house, 
and  observations  on  them,  came  merely  to  fill  up  gaps 
and  give  new  matter  for  discourse,"  Mary  Berry  recorded. 
"  She  was  on  her  very  best  manner,  and  her  conversation 
is  uncommonly  lively,  odd,  and  clever.  What  a  pity  she 
has  not  a  grain  of  common  sense,  nor  an  ounce  of 
ballast  to  prevent  high  spirits,  and  a  coarse  mind  without 
any  degree  of  moral  taste,  from  running  away  with 
her,  and  allowing  her  to  act  indecorously  and  ridi- 
culously whenever  an  occasion  offers !  Were  she 
always  to  conduct  herself  as  she  did  here  to-day,  she 
would  merit  the  character  of  having  not  only  a  re- 
markably easy  and  gracious  manner,  but  natural  clever- 
ness above  any  of  her  peers  that  I  have  seen,  and  a 
good  many  have  at  different  times  fallen  under  my 
observation."  The  more  favourable  impression  lasted, 
and  the  Berrys  were  frequently  invited  to  Kensington 
Palace. 


292  BERRY    PAPERS 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Strawberry  Hill,  September  2,  1808. 

As  I  believe  you  receive  your  letters  in  the  morning 
before  you  see  the  Newspapers,  I  cannot  resist  the 
chance  of  being  the  first  to  give  you  the  great  and 
really  glorious  intelligence  of  the  success  of  our  own 
Arms.1  General  Junot  (I  conclude  pressed  for  provi- 
sions) came  out  with  his  Army  and  attacked  the  English, 
about  eight  leagues  from  Lisbon.  A  battle  ensued  in 
which  our  troops  were  completely  victorious,  and  the 
French  retreated  into  Lisbon.  The  consequence  was 
an  immediate  offer  of  capitulation.  On  this,  the  officer 
came  away  with  his  news  to  Government.  I  only  at 
present  know  this  from  the  Times,  but  I  do  and  will 
believe. 

This  is  not  an  answer  to  your  letter  of  the  28th  Augt. 
which  I  received  the  day  before  yesterday,  for  besides 
having  but  little  time  to-day,  I  can  think  of  nothing  but 
Lisbon  and  our  Victory.  "  Veniret  Androgeos!"  how 
truly  you  said,  and  how  my  heart  goes  with  you  !  Poor, 
mistaken  O'Hara !  Had  he  lived,  which  I  think  he 
would,  had  you  lived  with  him,  how  should  we  not  have 
at  this  moment  exulted  and  rejoiced !  I  say  we,  for 
surely  you  would  both  have  let  me  creep  on  your  Rocks, 
while  I  could  creep  on  Earth !  But  no  more  of  this : 
perhaps  too  much  already ! 

Agnes  and  I  will  attend  to  your  materials  for  the 
portrait,  but  we  doubt  a  little  the  propriety  of  "an 
Enchantress  "  (always  a  sort  of  Indignant  Being  at  best) 
"blessing"  any  thing:  also  her  right  to  an  altar,  but 
of  the  latter  objection  I  am  less  sure. 

Farewell,  and  Heaven  bless  you,  if  J  cannot,  tho' 
no  Enchantress. — Farewell.2 

1  The  battle  of  Vimiera,  August  21,  1808,  at  which  Wellesley  defeated 
Junot.  *  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  249- 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     293 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Howe  to  Mary  Berry 

Highfikld  Park,  September  3,  1809. 

Your  last  kindness  came  to  me  yesterday,  my  dear 
Miss  Berry,  many  blessings  on  you  for  all  your  affec- 
tionate goodness  to  me !  I  was  much  pleased  with 
your  first  Letter,  which  was  exactly  of  the  sort  I  admire, 
and  I,  in  truth,  for  it  is  indeed  very  true,  should  have 
answered  it  nearly  as  quickly  as  I  am  doing  your  last, 
but  the  sad  accident  and  suffering  which  happened 
about  that  time  to  my  brother  made  me  rather  unfit 
to  write  more  than  I  was  called  upon,  owing  to  that 
event.  But  I  assure  you  I  did  not  wait  to  hear  from 
you  again,  though  it  has  so  fallen  out,  for  I  intended 
to  affirm  to  you  to-day  that  I  am  proud  and  happy  in 
your  friendship  and  in  being  thought  worthy  of  your 
notice. 

You  must  wait  till  I  return  home  for  the  clock 
account,  and  I  fear  much  longer  for  the  bees.  I  puzzled 
to  little  purpose  yesterday,  as  a  fraction  of  a  Bee  would 
distract  me,  and  I  am  apt  to  suppose  I  yet  do  not 
understand  the  question  perfectly;  however  you  shall 
not  have  any  more  trouble  concerning  it  unless  when 
I  can  send  you  the  answer,  but  as  I  hope  you  will  not 
be  very  long  before  you  write  to  me  again,  I  beg  of  you 
to  send  me  the  direction  to  Mr.  Playfair,  and  then,  if  I  fail 
again,  after  another  trial,  I  shall  take  courage  to  apply 
to  him  at  once. 

You  mention  nothing  of  yourself  in  your  last.  In 
such  cases  I  am  ever  willing  to  suppose  such  neglect 
to  be  owing  to  the  not  feeling  any  uncomfortable  re- 
minder ;  in  future,  however,  do  not  depend  upon  my 
taking  the  rosy  side,  but  be  particular  on  a  subject  so 
interesting  to  all  your  friends;  tell  me  too  what  you 
are  doing,  where  you  are  going,  what  you  are  reading 
and  tho'  last  not  the  least  interesting,  as  much  of  your 


294  BERRY    PAPERS 

thoughts  and  opinions  as  you  can  find  leisure  to  do. 
I  promise  you  nothing  in  return  from  home.  I  have 
met  with  nought  very  pleasing  for  a  long  time,  except 
what  I  collected  from  your  Letters. 

My  love  to  Agnes,  and  many,  many,  respects  to 
Mrs.  Darner,  and  believe  me,  my  dear  friend,  Your 
obliged  and  faithful.  C.  H.1 


Lady  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell2  to  Mary  Berry 

Inveraray  Castle,  January  21,  18 10. 

Dear  Berrina, — I  am  quite  grieved  to  think  you 
thought  it  necessary  to  write  to  me  because  you  had 
intended  to  do  so.  I  feel  sure  of  your  regard,  and  do 
not  require  any  forms  to  keep  alive  the  steady  and  warm 
good  will  I  entertain  for  you.  H  In  this  mutual  security 
of  mutual  kindness,  no  such  ceremonies  are  necessary, 
and  remember  tho'  I  hasten  to  answer  your  note,  I  do 
not  mean  to  wheedle  you  into  a  correspondence. — All  I 
intend  to  do,  is  to  stir  the  Fire  of  your  Friendship  by 
messages ;  and  then,  when  we  meet,  have  a  care  of  your 
self,  for  I  mean  to  set  you  in  a  perfect  blaze.  It  is 
rather  an  awful  thing  to  write  to  you,  at  all,  considering 
what  you  are,  and  what  you  are  engaged  in,  but  I  trust 
to  my  being  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell  to  obtain  some 
favor  in  your  Sight  whether  it  be  on  Paper,  or  in  Propria 
Persona.  I  like  your  Account  of  my  future  Mistress 3  and 
her  agreeable  dinners,  and  feel  sure  you  will  always  say 
Amen,  to  a  good  natured  speech,  at  least  about  me. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  61. 

2  Lady  Charlotte  Susan  Maria  Campbell  (1775-1861),  youngest  child  of 
John  Campbell,  fifth  Duke  of  Argyll,  was  a  famous  beauty.  In  1796  she 
married  Colonel  John  Campbell  (d.  1809),  and  by  him  had  nine  children. 
She  married  secondly,  in  1815,  the  Rev.  Edward  John  Berry.  Shortly  after 
she  became  a  widow  she  was  appointed  Lady-in-waiting  to  the  Princess  of 
Wales.  Her  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  IV  appeared  in 
1838.     She  was  also  the  author  of  many  novels. 

*  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  of  Wales. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     295 

I  hope  I  shall  love  Madame  du  Deffand  more  than  I 
do  Mrs.  Montagu — perhaps  it  is  high  treason  to  say  so — 
but  her  Letters — Mrs.  M's.  I  mean — do  not  interest  my 
Heart,  and  do  you  know  that  my  Heart  is  composed  of 
much  better  stuff  than  my  Head,  and  consequently  I 
always  ask  its  leave  what  I  ought  to  value. 

I  never  knew  before  that  I  could  live  in  Complete 
Retirement  and  like  it.  I  am  much  fonder  of  myself  in 
Consequence  than  I  ever  was,  and,  like  most  People 
that  live  alone,  I  believe  I  shall  grow  disagreeable  to 
others — this  Egotism  is  a  specimen  of  it. — As  to  my 
Bairns  I  interest  myself  in  every  possible  way  about 
them,  but  when  People  talk  of  Children  being  Com- 
panions they  either  talk  nonsense,  or  they  talk  of  what 
they  know  nothing  about,  except  in  Theory.  Children 
speak  and  act  very  differently  in  reality,  from  what  they 
do  in  Books  of  Education  ;  and  as  what  we  seek  for  in 
a  companion  is  sympathy  and  a  capability  of  com- 
prehending, neither  of  these  things  can  be  found  in 
children,  neither  can  we  find  in  them  Companions ;  but 
nobody  makes  use  of  Appropriate  Words,  and  one  thing 
that  would  make  the  World  go  on  much  smoother 
would  be  the  perfect  understanding  of  our  thoughts. 

I  am  sure  you  are  weary  of  deciphering  mine,  and  I 
know  not  by  what  right  I  intrude  thus  long  upon  your 
time  Except  that  of  being  a  Chatter  Box. — But  believe 
me  always,  yours,  with  much  admiration  and  regard, 
Charlotte  Maria  Campbell.1 

Lady  Charlotte  Campbell's  allusion  to  Madame  du 
Deffand  was  occasioned  by  the  news  of  the  imminent 
publication  of  the  letters  of  the  French  lady,  edited 
by  Mary  Berry.  In  the  autumn  of  1807  Miss  Berry 
had  begun  to  read  these  letters,  which  she  found 
among  the  papers  of  Horace  Walpole,  and  she  thought 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  68. 


296  BERRY    PAPERS 

them  interesting  enough  to  present  to  the  public.  She 
worked  hard  at  them  during  the  following  two  years, 
and  in  her  Journals  are  several  references  to  her  labours. 
"  Saw  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  in  the  morning,"  she  noted 
on  April  18,  1810;  "went  again  over  my  Preface  and 
Life ;  adopted  almost  all  his  suggestions ;  expressed 
with  much  warmth  and  sincerity  my  thanks  to  him. 
I  believe  he  was  pleased,  but  I  have  not  known  him 
long  enough  for  him  to  know  me."  Longmans  pub- 
lished the  work  in  four  volumes,  and  paid  Miss  Berry 
.£200  for  her  editorial  services. 


The  Rev.  G.  0.  Cambridge1  to  Mary  Berry 

Twickenham-Meadows,  January  28,  1810. 

My  Dear  Madam, — I  feel  grateful  to  [illegible] 
for  the  opportunity  it  has  afforded  me  of  having  four 
good  Friends  in  North  Audley  Street,  and  of  hearing 
that  they  are  well.  I  will  obey  to  the  last  of  my 
power  your  wishes  in  regard  to  Mr.  Ferguson ;  but 
I  know  not  if  you  are  aware  that  the  list  of  Candidates 
exceeds  300,  whilst  the  vacancies  amount  only  to  eight! 
If  therefore  I  do  not  succeed  in  raising  your  friend 
to  the  293rd  step  of  this  long  ladder,  you  are  not  to 
impute  it  to  any  want  of  zeal,  but  to  my  only  possessing 
the  500th  part  of  the  power  requisite  to  effect  your 
wishes. 

We  regret  being  such  strangers  in  North  Audley 
Street,  but  Mrs.  G.  very  seldom  visits  London,  and 
I  am  only  drawn  to  it  by  business  which  occupies  me 
the  whole  time  I  am  there ;  but  we  shall  endeavour 
as  the  Spring  advances  to  find  some  of  our  Friends 
there  ;  and  you  and  Miss  Agnes  among  the  rest. 

1  Son  of  Richard  Owen  Cambridge.     He  became  Prebendary  of  Ely.     In 
1803  he  published  an  edition  of  his  father's  works,  with  a  memoir. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     297 

Had  not  this  opportunity  been  afforded  me,  I  was 
about  to  take  up  ray  pen  to  you,  to  express  the 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  we  have  just  experienced  in 
the  perusal  of  your  Life  of  Madame  Du  Deffand,  which 
does  great  credit  to  your  judgment  and  feeling.  The 
plain  and  clear  representation  you  have  given  of  the 
mischiefs  of  French  manners  :  and  the  sufferings  she 
endured  from  the  want  of  those  consolations,  which 
religious  impressions  are  so  well  calculated  to  furnish 
to  Infirmity  and  old  age  will  do  more  to  recommend 
Religion  to  your  Readers  than  any  more  direct  argument 
on  the  Subject,  could  do.  This  sketch  of  yours  re- 
minded me  strongly  of  some  of  Sir  Joshua's  single  heads, 
so  much  and  so  justly  admired  for  their  simplicity 
and  truth.  I  only  regret  you  have  not  taken  a  larger 
Canvas  and  introduced  a  greater  variety  of  Figures  and 
objects.  But  it  was  the  success  of  his  single  Figures 
which  led  that  great  painter  on  to  his  Ugolino. 

Mrs.  G.  C.  begs  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  your 
Sister  and  Mr.  Berry  with,  My  Dear  Madam,  Your 
faithful  Servant, 

G.  O.  Cambridge.1 


From  the  Princess  of  Wales  to  Miss  Berry2 

Kensington  Palace,  November  26,  18 10. 

My  anxiety  is  so  great  on  account  of  the  poor 
Lockes,  since  the  melancholy  event  of  the  death  of 
their  youngest  child,  that  I  am  induced  to  commit, 
perhaps,  an  indiscretion  in  intruding  on  your  leisure 
hours,  my  dear  Miss  Berry ;  but  trusting  to  your  usual 
good  nature,  and  our  sentiments  concerning  them  being 

1  Add.MSS.  37726,  f.  70. 

3  This  and  the  following  letter,  which  have  been  printed  elsewhere,  are 
inserted  here  to  show  the  growing  intimacy  between  the  Princess  of  Wales 
and  Mary  Berry. 


298  BERRY    PAPERS 

so  congenial,  you  will  comprehend  my  solicitude.  I 
intrust  into  your  hands,  and  to  your  sound  judgment, 
the  manner  how  best  to  convey  from  my  part  every 
thing  that  is  kind  and  soothing  to  them  :  consolation 
it  is  impossible  to  offer  them  on  such  a  painful  occasion, 
but  it  is  time  alone  that  can  cure  so  great  an  affliction. 

Let  us  waive  this  melancholy  topic,  and  rejoice 
together  at  the  happy  prospect  of  our  beloved  Monarch's 
recovery.  We  may  now  trust  that  that  storm  which 
passed  over  our  heads  will  be  dispersed  for  a  number 
and  number  of  years ;  it  must  be  the  fervent  wish  of 
every  individual,  but  especially  that  of  one  of  his  first 
subjects. 

I  look  forward  with  great  pleasure  to  the  period  which 
will  enable  me  again  to  enjoy  your  agreeable  society. 

I  wish  to  be  remembered  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hope  ; 
and  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  me,  for  ever,  My  dear 
Miss  Berry,  Your  very  sincere  and  affectionate, 

C.  P. 

P.S. — I  am  much  shocked  and  grieved  at  the 
melancholy  event  of  poor  Lady  Aberdeen.1  I  trust 
that  she  will  feel  no  bad  effect  from  this  sad  disappoint- 
ment, for  nobody  deserves  more  respect  and  admiration 
than  she  does,  by  those  who  have  the  happiness  of 
being  intimately  acquainted  with  her. 


From  Miss  Berry  to  Princess  of  Wales 

Brighton,  November  27,  1810. 

MADAM, — I  have  conveyed  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Locke  2  the 
sentiments  of  which  your  Royal  Highness  has  honoured 
me  with  being  the  interpreter.  They  must  themselves 
express  their  gratitude,  and  the  high  sense  they  enter- 

1  Catherine   Elizabeth,   eldest  surviving  daughter  of  John  James,  first 
Marquis  of  Abercorn.     She  died  February  18 12. 
*  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Locke,  of  Norbury. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     299 

tain  of  your  Royal  Highness's  benevolent  solicitude.  I 
confess  I  could  use  no  words  at  once  so  impressive  and 
so  soothing  as  those  of  your  Royal  Highness.  I  am 
happy  to  say  that  Mrs.  Locke's  health  has  not  suffered 
by  her  constant,  painful,  and  unwearied  attendance  on 
her  children,  and  that  the  remaining  two  are  entirely 
recovered.1  This  I  have  been  obliged  to  content  myself 
with  hearing  by  report,  and  by  notes  that  have  passed 
between  us,  for  I  have  been  under  such  strict  quarantine 
here  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hope,  from  the  dread  of  a  possi- 
bility of  infection  to  their  children,  that  I  have  only  had 
two  short  interviews  with  William,  and  that  in  the 
open  air.  ...  I  have  had  the  happiness  to  find  myself 
here,  Madam,  surrounded  by  some  of  your  Royal 
Highness's  most  devoted  admirers.  Mr.  Ward,  Sir  W. 
Drummond,  Mr.  Rogers,  Lord  and  Lady  Aberdeen,  are 
those  with  whom  I  have  been  living ;  and,  though  last, 
not  least,  my  kind  hosts,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hope,  who  desire 
me  to  express  to  your  Royal  Highness  their  gratitude 
for  the  honour  of  your  enquiry  after  them.  Mrs.  Hope 
has,  I  think,  quite  recovered  her  health  here.  Her  best 
comfort,  under  the  loss  of  her  little  girl,  is  the  daily 
improvement  of  your  Royal  Highness's  little  godson, 
who  is  really  one  of  the  finest  children  of  his  age  I  ever 
saw.  Lady  Aberdeen,  I  am  happy  to  say,  is  going  on 
as  well  as  possible,  after  her  very  unexpected  confine- 
ment .  .  .  Lord  Aberdeen  certainly  bears  his  disappoint- 
ment remarkably  well  .  .  .  The  sentiments  which  your 
Royal  Highness  expresses  upon  the  prospect  of  his 
Majesty's  recovery,  must  be  those  of  everyone  worthy 
the  happiness  of  being  his  subject,  by  having  a  due  sense 
of  the  blessings  of  his  reign  .  .  . 

I  have  the  honour  to  be,  Madam,  your  Royal  Highness's 
most  grateful  and  most  obedient  servant, 

M.  B. 

1  Mr.  William  Locke,  drowned  in  the  Lake  of  Como  ;  and  Elizabeth, 
married,  1822,  to  the  Lord  Wallscourt. 


300  BERRY    PAPERS 

Earl  of  Carlisle  to  Mary  Berry 

Castle  Howard,  August  n,  1810. 

Dear  Madam, — I  find  if  I  wait  longer  for  the  arrival 
of  your  promised  present,  I  shall  incur  the  imputation 
of  making  a  dilatory  acknowledgment  for  the  favour  you 
have  announced.  In  the  meantime  I  can  assure  you 
that  everything  that  relates  to  my  old  protectress  must 
be  interesting  to  me,  and  independent  of  the  pleasure  I 
am  likely  to  derive  from  the  work,  I  shall  ever  consider 
it  as  a  very  flattering  mark  of  your  kind  recollection 
of  me. 

Believe  me  to  be,  with  great  respect,  your  most  obliged 
humble  servant, 

Carlisle.1 


Lord  Dudley2  to  Mary  Berry 

Mount  Sion,  Tunbridge,  Thursday,  September  181 1. 

St.  John  presents  his  compliments  to  St.  Mary  and 
St.  Agnes,  and  requests  the  honour  of  their  company  to 
dinner  on  Sunday  next  at  half-past  five.  St.  John  does 
not  perceive  the  name  of  "  Charlotte  "  in  the  Kalendar — 
he  therefore  presumes  that  she  is  no  Saint,  and  on  that 
account  unworthy  to  be  admitted  to  the  banquets  of  the 
blest.  However,  if  she  remains  long  enough  in  these 
happy  regions,  and  St.  M.  and  St.  A.  are  willing  to 
answer  for  her  good  behaviour  on  this  occasion,  St.  John 
will  be  happy  to  see  her — and  as  Guglielmo  Spencer 
Avocato  del  Diavolo  will  probably  be  unable  to  attend, 
she  may  perhaps  pass  muster.3 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  72. 

1  William  Ward,  third  Viscount  Dudley  and  Ward  (1 750-1 823),  the 
father  of  the  better-known  John  William  Ward  (1781-1833),  who  succeeded 
him  as  fourth  Viscount,  and  was  in  1827  created  Earl  of  Dudley. 

8  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  92. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     301 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Darner  to  Mary  Berry 

Coombb  Bank,  Monday,  September  23,  181 1. 

Would  to  heaven  !  dear  Soul,  that  you  had  said  not 
half,  but  even  the  smallest  part  of  what  you  now  say  to 
me  when  I  was  with  you.  All  would  then  have  easily 
been  settled  and  no  doubts  or  misunderstanding  would 
have  taken  place  between  us.  A  kind,  indulgent  word 
from  you  will,  at  any  time,  raise  my  spirits,  however- 
depressed,  or,  what  is  often  better,  give  them  quiet  and 
composure.  It  is  difficult  for  me  now  at  a  distance  to 
attempt  to  express  the  feelings  of  my  heart  when  I  see 
you  dissatisfied  with  me,  or  think  you  are  so.  Let  it, 
therefore,  for  the  present  suffice  if  I  say,  and  from  my 
heart,  that  your  do  pignora  certa  timendo  you  fear 
of  losing  my  devoted  affection,  were  it  wandering, 
wavering,  or  on  the  wing,  would  arrest  it  anew  and 
for  ever ! 

Believe  me,  you  exaggerated  to  yourself  the  effect 
on  my  mind  of  the  minor,  nay,  minima,  nothings  at 
Tunbridge  not  just  to  my  taste  and  liking,  and  seemed 
unconscious  that  your  own  manner  and  the  things  you 
said  to  me  alone  really  vexed  and  mortified  me.  Be  it 
that  in  this  I  was  wrong,  and  then  only  forgive  me :  I 
ask  no  more  !  As  to  my  having  any  secret  ill,  or  ailment 
respecting  health  that  you  know  not  of,  I  do  assure  you 
with  perfect  truth  that  I  have  not,  of  any  sort  or  kind, 
but  I  have  suffered  more  now  for  some  winters  past 
than  you  have  been  aware  of,  and  have  not  recovered 
my  strength,  which  indeed,  from  the  weakness  of  my 
lungs,  the  "vetera  vestigia,"  never  shines  in  walking  up 
hills,  or  thro'  sand  in  a  mid-day  sun,  and  one  always 
fancies  a  road,  or  walk,  longer  and  more  difficult  when 
one  is  unacquainted  with  it  and  meets  it  for  the  first 
time. 

I  do  trust  that  I   have  said  what  will   quiet  your 


302  BERRY    PAPERS 

affectionate  heart  and  kind  anxiety  for  me,  for  be  assured 
that  I  have  said  nothing  but  what  is  exactly  true,  and 
that  I  look  forward  to  seeing  you  again  with  the  hope 
of  finding  my  only  real  comfort  on  earth  ! — I  shall  add 
little  more  at  present,  as  I  have  to  write  to  Charlotte, 
from  whom  I  received  a  long  and  (as  is  always  the  case 
with  her)  admirably  written  letter  from  last  Friday. — If 
she  can  bring  herself  to  stay  at  Worthing  till  her  wait- 
ing, it  is  clearly  the  best  thing  for  the  present  that  she 
can  do — that  is,  the  most  prudent. — Mustaccio,  if  not 
forgotten,  vi'\\\  forget, — she  will  in  expences  be  beforehand, 
her  companion  will  be  pleased, — she  will  gain  credit 
with  the  world  and  feel  a  consciousness  of  having  done 
rightly,  and  I  do  believe  her  that,  when  away  from 
worldly  temptations,  she  can  hold  out  very  well  in  retire- 
ment for  a  time,  and  has  many  and  valuable  resources  in 
her  own  mind  that  enable  her  so  to  do. — Tell  me  to 
whom  I  am  now  to  enclose  my  letters  to  you,  as  I 
believe  that  your  sweet  Lady  Charlemont  and  her 
agreeable-looking  husband  will  perhaps  be  gone  by  the 
time  I  write  again.1 


Agnes  Berry  to  Mary  Berry 

North  Audley  Street,  January  i,  1812. 

Dearest  Mary, — I  have  just  received  your  most 
kind,  impressive  and,  above  all,  affecting  letter.  How  it 
has  gone  to  my  heart,  where  feelings  for  you  and  for 
myself  are  almost  blended  in  one,  I  can  but  ill  express 
to  you.  But  of  this  I  can  assure  you,  that  in  all  your 
calm  and  rational  views  of  our  remaining  existence,  I 
am  most  desirous  to  follow  and  imitate  you,  for  declining 
life  has  ever  appeared  to  me  a  very  bitter  draft.  But 
I  will  say  nothing  more  on  these  subjects  at  present,  for 
I  should  only  affect  more  both  myself  and  you,  for  you 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  251. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  303 

must  be  certain  that  my  feelings  are  at  present  what  you 
would  wish  them  to  be.  My  father  sends  you  his  most 
earnest  and  affectionate  blessings,1  and  he  begins  his 
year,  all  things  considered,  with  wonderful  health  and 
comfort  in  spite  of  aches  and  groans,  which  we  shall  all 
come  to  if  we  live,  long  before  his  age.  My  new  year 
begun,  as  you  know,  at  the  Buckinghamshires  last  night, 
and  my  mind  is  not  much  in  tune  to  travel  there  at 
present ;  and,  indeed,  I  have  not  much  to  tell  you  about 
the  matter.  As  half  her  romance  is  generally  in  the 
name,  so  our  breakfast  in  1812  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  doors  of  the  room,  with  refreshments, 
being  thrown  open  after  12  o'clock,  where  one  found 
everything  as  usual  except  a  little  treillage  of  roses  and 
the  Lord  knows  what  tramping  round  the  edge  of  the 
tables,  which  made  it  very  difficult  to  get  anything. 
However,  the  rooms  were  comfortably  warm,  and  full 
of  the  Lord  knows  who,  figures  copied  from  the  last 
century  to  show  us  what  we  should  all  come  to  before 
the  end  of  this — Carolina  Vernon,  Belle  Piggott,  Mr. 
Nolkin,  Mrs.  Abington,  etc.  etc.  Amongst  all  these 
darlings,  however,  I  found  acquaintances  enough  to 
amuse  myself  very  well,  and  moreover  there  were  about 
a  score  of  characters  in  masks  who  made  noise  enough 
to  keep  everybody  awake,  and  music  that  people  were 
meant  to  dance  to,  and  so  it  all  did  very  well.  The 
Bumble  looked  very  happy,  and  I  was  not  sorry  to  get 
away  a  little  before  two  o'clock. 

To-day,  as  I  told  you,  I  am  going  to  the  Ellenboroughs, 
and  instead  of  dining  first  with  my  Father,  he  is  going 
to  dine  with  the  Lockes  and  Miss  Brots  which  he  likes 
very  much.  This  change  is  because  the  Princess's 
dinner  to  which  they  were  asked  is  put  off  till  the  12th. 
Her  cook  is  ill,  and  the  menu  not  to  be  had.  Edward 
Lane  called  the  other  day,  and  for  the  first  time  I  asked 

1  Mary  Berry  had,  on  December  24,    gone   with  the   Charlemonts  to 
Wimpole.    She  returned  to  London  on  January  3. 


3o4  BERRY    PAPERS 

him  if  he  had  seen  or  had  anything  to  do  with  his 
brother  Charley.  Oh,  they  are  a  fine  iron-hearted  family. 
It  really  would  have  frozen  your  blood  to  hear  one  and 
twenty  talk  so  of  a  brother,  but  they  are  all  well  met, 
and  all  the  fitter  for  the  world,  and  their  society  may 
be  very  entertaining,  tho'  there  is  about  as  much  feeling 
in  a  brass  kettle  as  in  the  whole  family  put  together. 
Your  room  will  certainly  be  ready  for  you,  and  your 
basin  stand  is  come  home  and  up  and  I  think  looks 
very  well.  And  all  the  papers  shall  be  off  and  the 
Rivvers  shall  be  on,  and  your  bed,  of  course,  well  aired,  as 
Harriot  has  been  in  it  all  the  time.  I  hope  you  will  per- 
suade the  Charlemonts  to  share  our  beef  and  pudding, 
and  tell  me  about  what  hour  you  think  of  arriving. 
Half  after  6  or  7  will  do  for  us,  only  don't  arrive 
murdered — for  I  think  that  is  a  nasty  road  with  all 
its  endless  turnings  and  windings.  Mrs.  Upreece  is 
come  to  town.  She  is  to  be  with  me  to-morrow 
evening,  and  Lady  Tancred  and  the  fair  Liddia.  I 
am  quite  in  the  petticoat  line  now  you  are  gone,  but 
mean  to  drive  a  better  trade  when  you  come  back. 
What  foolish  people  the  Gordons  were  to  leave  you. 
I  meant  to  have  called  at  Lady  Georgiana's,  but  the 
thaw,  which,  thank  God,  we  have  got  here,  has  made 
the  streets  so  detestably  dirty  that  after  wading  to  Mrs. 
Darner's,  Mrs.  Buller's,  and  Lady  Margaret's,  I  was  ob- 
liged to  return  home.  I  will  go  to  Lady  G.  to-morrow 
if  I  can.  The  Duke  is  also  in  town  I  hear.  And  now 
God  bless  you,  dearest  Mary,  and  imagine  all  that  my 
heart  feels  and  my  words  cannot  say.1 

Lady  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell  to  Mary  Berry 

Worthing,  April  22,  1812. 

Little  did  you  and  I  think,  Dear  Berrina,  when  we 
made  those  rash  vows  with  our  liver  and  gizzard  how 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  71. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  305 

very  soon  all  real  obstacles  would  cease  to  prevent  their 
fulfilment.  Well,  Lady,  and  how  do  you  feel  ?  have 
you  packed  up  your  Jewels  and  Regalia  and  are  you 
ready  to  set  off  ? 

As  to  me  I  am  in  "a  sea  of  troubles,"  but  I  never 
expect  to  be  out  of  it — with  all  my  female  train. — 
Nevertheless,  I  am  putting  the  great  Body  in  motion 
by  degrees,  and  I  now  entertain  Sanguine  Expectations 
of  bringing  all  my  Schemes  to  bear — in  the  meantime  I 
keep  School  here  without  any  interruption  or  temptation 
whatever.  We  want  nothing  but  a  blue  Board  and  Golden 
Letters  .  .  .  with  Young  Ladies  Genteelly  Educated — to 
complete  the  Establishment — but,  Berrina,  you  may  be  as 
angry  as  you  choose  at  getting  a  long,  dull,  Country  Letter 
— I  must  and  will  extract  an  answer  from  you.  I  do  not 
want  to  draw  you  into  a  correspondence — but  I  do 
firmly  intend  to  have  one  History  from  you — A  Whole- 
sale and  retail  of  all  the  great  and  all  the  little  news.1 


Lady  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell  to  Mary  Berry 

Montagu  House  [Blackheath],  May  12,  18 12. 
Written  in  the  Blue  Chamber. 

You  may  think,  my  Dear  Berrina,  what  a  shock  the 
tragical  end  of  poor  Mr.  Perceval2  has  given  to  the 
Princess.  I  am  commanded  by  Her  Royal  Highness  to 
beg  you  will  let  us  know  all  the  particulars  you  may 
have  heard  concerning  this  awful  event. — Her  Royal 
Highness  does  not  intend  going  to  the  Opera  to-night 
as  she  was  to  have  done  had  not  this  dreadful  assassina- 
tion taken  place — but  she  means  to  attend  the  Drawing 
Room  on  Thursday,  as  that  cannot  be  attributed  to 
any  love  of  pleasure. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  97- 

2  Spencer  Perceval,  the  Prime  Minister,  was  shot  in  the  lobby  of  the 
House  of  Commons  by  John  Bellingham,  May  n,  1812. 

U 


3o6  BERRY    PAPERS 

You  are  requested  to  give  your  opinion  upon  this 
Business.  Do  you  think  that  it  is  the  action  of  a  mad 
Individual,  or  the  fulfillment  of  any  settled  plan  ? 

I  remain,  Dear  Berrina,  Yours,  writing  and  teaching 
at  the  same  time,  affectionately, 

Charlotte  Maria  Campbell.1 


Lady  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell  to  Mary  Berry 

Tuesday,  August  18,  1812. 
Sampson,  the  Philistines  be  upon  thee. 

I  am  commanded,  Dear  Berrina,  to  tell  you  that  Her 
Royal  Highness  the  Princess  of  Wales  proposes  visiting 
you  upon  Tuesday  the  25th  at  Tunbridge.  She  brings 
with  her  Mrs.  and  Miss  Rawdon — at  least  they  are 
invited — and  your  humble  servant.  There  being  a  Dearth 
of  Men  throughout  the  Land  at  present,  we  have  none, 
alas !  to  bring ;  but  you  are  a  good  caterer  in  that  way 
and  have  a  certain  pair  of  black  eyes  that  are  no  bad 
Decoys  for  stray  Birds.  For  Heaven's  Sake  use  them 
vigorously  in  Our  Service,  for  I  think  we  shall  be  heavy 
in  hand  to  you  and  ourselves  without  a  little  Male 
Aid. 

So  much  for  Nonsense — and  now — nothing  for 
Sense. — For  I  have  no  time,  even  if  I  had  wit. 

I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  the  Victory 2 — will  it 
ultimately  produce  Peace  ?  Carnage  may  be  glorious, 
but  I  cannot  say  I  enjoy  it — and  I  never  hear  the  noisy 
thoughtless  Mirth  of  the  Populace  upon  such  occasions 
without  thinking  of  those  Tears  which  no  glory  wipes 
away,  and  sighing  for  those  to  whom  the  mirth  is  but 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  98. 

*  The  battle  of  Salamanca,  July  22,  1812,  when  Wellington  defeated  the 
French  under  Marmont. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     307 

Despair — but  I  know  the  World  must  be  made  over  again 
for  me. 

Won't — Voila  le  malheur  you  shall  tell  me  all  about 
it  when  we  meet.  I  can  only  sign  myself  in  violent 
Haste. 

Affectionately  Yours  and  Sincerely, 

Charlotte  Maria.1 


Lady  Charlotte  Maria  Campbell  to  Mary  Berry 

Montagu  House,  Friday,  August  21,  181 2. 

Dear  Berrina, — I  am  commanded  by  Her  Royal 
Highness  to  inform  you,  that  about  three  o'clock  She 
will  be  at  your  door  on  Tuesday.  The  Princess  thinks 
that  the  Pantiles  and  the  Ball  will  be  very  good  fun 
with  you ;  but  rather  wishes  (unless  you  have  some 
very  Agreeable  Brand)  not  to  have  any  Company  at 
Dinner. 

I  am  grieved  to  think  you  have  been  111,  I  wish  to 
charge  the  Weather  with  this  Evil,  but  I  know  that 
you  have  vile  Head  Aches  in  all  Weathers,  and  this 
vexes  me  the  more. 

You  are  a  good  Girl,  though,  Dear  Berrina,  to  go 
to  Mrs.  Damer.  I  rejoice  at  it,  and  am  sure  that  seeing 
each  other  will  do  you  both  good.  I  sometimes  wonder 
why  one  ever  consents  to  be  absent  from  the  Friends 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  99. 

7  "  The  Pantiles  were  put  in  an  uproar  last  Tuesday  by  the  arrival  of  the 
Princess  of  Wales  on  a  visit  to  the  Berrys.  She  brought  Lady  C.  Campbell 
and  Mrs.  and  Miss  Rawdon  with  her,  but  not  a  man  did  she  bring,  or  could 
she  get  here  for  love  or  money,  except  Sir  Philip  Francis  and  old  Berry,  who, 
egad,  liked  the  fun  of  gallanting  her  about,  and  enjoyed  himself  more  than 
the  fair  daughters  did,  who  were  in  a  great  fuss,  and  were  forsaken  in  their 
utmost  need  by  Beaux  their  former  suppers  fed,  and  had  to  amuse  her,  as  well 
as  they  could,  with  the  assistance  of  a  few  women  that  she  did  not  care 
about." — Lady  Donegal  to  Thomas  Moore,  Tunbridge  Wells,  August  28,  1812 
(Moore's  Journals,  viii.,  118). 


308  BERRY    PAPERS 

one  loves  most.  Is  there  anything  that  compensates  for 
the  absence  of  a  beloved  object  ?  I  know  of  none. 
Berrina,  Dear  Berrina,  I  shall  never  be  wiser  or  better. 
My  heart  is  still  at  fifteen,  and  not  worn  out — the 
more's  the  pity,  say  you — and  sometimes  I  think  so 
too. 

I  took  wing  to-day  to  my  own  nest  and  nestlings — 
and  am  rather  Surprised  why  I  ever  leave  either — but 
necessity  teaches  one  to  endure  many  things. 

The  Princess  is  asleep.  Would  I  were  so  too,  for  I 
am  weary — but  in  all  Haste. 

Ever,  Dear  Berrina, 

Yours  affectionate  and  unchanged 

Charlotte  Maria  Campbell.1 

In  September  1813  the  Berrys  signed  an  agreement 
by  which  Alderman  Wood 2  became  the  tenant  for  seven 
years  of  Little  Strawberry  Hill.  They  parted  with  the 
pretty  little  place  with  regret,  but  the  rent  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  guineas  was  of  use  to  them,  and  they 
had  of  late  been  there  less  and  less.  North  Audley 
Street  was  now  their  only  home,  and  it  became,  of  course, 
their  headquarters.  During  this  and  the  following  years 
they  led  their  usual  life  of  social  gaiety,  dining  out, 
receiving,  paying  visits,  meeting  everybody,  and  extend- 
ing their  acquaintance  with  the  foreigners  who  flocked 
to  England  after  Napoleon  had  gone  to  Elba  and  again 
after  Waterloo.  They  went  generally  to  Tunbridge 
Wells  in  the  summer  or  early  autumn,  and  in  October 
1 8 14  Mary  Berry  went  so  far  afield  as  Hamilton,  where 
she  stayed  until  the  end  of  the  year  as  the  guest  of  the 
Marquis    and   Marchioness   of   Douglas.     In   February 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  1 01. 

1  Afterwards  Lord  Mayor.    The  friend  and  champion  of  Queen  Caroline. 
Subsequently  created  a  baronet. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  309 

1816  Mary  Berry  accepted  an  invitation  to  stay  at  Paris 
with  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwicke,1  and  from  there  she 
wrote  frequently  to  her  sister,  who  remained  in 
London. 

Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Lion  D' Argent,  Calais,  Thursday,  February  29,  3  o'clock,  18 16. 

I  wrote  to  you  not  four  hours  ago  from  Dover  (sic). 
We  sailed  at  half  after  ten  and  were  exactly  3  hours  from 
Pier  to  Pier — there  was  enough  Wind,  quite  fair,  and 
a  good  deal  of  sea — I  sat  on  deck  the  whole  way  and 
was  sick  enough  most  part  of  it,  but  it  was  merely 
sickness  and  vomitting  and  no  headache  either  then 
or  now.  We  were  a  longer  time  than  was  needful 
bothering  about  our  landing,  which  was  only  disagree- 
able from  the  excessive  cold,  tho'  a  bright  sun  all  the 
time — My  companions  came  here  to  this  town,  and  a  very 
nice  clean  town  it  seems  to  be,  only  a  little  too  much  d 
Vangloise,  but  no  matter  what  it  is,  for  we  are  going  on  to 
Boulogne  to-night,  that  we  may  get  to  Abbeville  to- 
morrow.— My  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Rice  [was  made], 
as  I  told  you,  stepping  into  the  Packet  and  under  the 
best  auspices.  She  seems  a  civil,  vulgar,  sort  of  Hurly 
Burly  woman,  who  is  likely  to  amuse  me,  as  I  have  no 
headache — which  I  repeat  with  triumph.  Calais  looks 
cleaner  than  it  used,  but  the  cold  is  so  excessive,  that  I 
really  cannot  walk  far  away  from  the  fire,  of  which  the 
savoury  smell  of  the  wood,  in  which  I  delight,  is  now  in 
my  nose.  We  are  just  going  to  dinner,  which  will  do 
me  much  good. — This  letter  goes  with  theirs  back  by 
their  own  Vessel  which  brought  us  over,  and  us  alone. 

1  Philip  Yorke,  third  Earl  of  Hardwicke  (1757-1834),  eldest  son  of  Lord- 
Chancellor  Yorke,  married,  in  1782,  Elizabeth,  third  daughter  of  James 
Lindsay,  Earl  of  Balcarres.  On  February  6,  1816,  Lady  Elizabeth  Yorke, 
third  daughter  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Hardwicke,  married  Sir  Charles 
Stuart,  British  Ambassador  at  Paris,  1815-1830.  Sir  Charles  Stuart  (1779- 
1845)  was  in  1828  created  Baron  Stuart  de  Rothesay. 


310  BERRY    PAPERS 

But  when  it  may  be  able  to  return  is  another  case. 
And  now  God  bless  you,  as  I  probably  shall  not  have 
time  to  add  a  word  more.  1  think  you  will  say  I  have 
hitherto  managed  my  matters  very  cleverly — Farewell. 

Thursday  Evening,  7  o'clock. — I  have  opened  my 
letter  to  say,  the  carriages  were  so  long  of  getting  out, 
and  of  passing  the  Custom  House,  that  finding  we  should 
not  get  off  here  till  near  six  o'clock,  nor  to  Boulogne 
till  near  eleven,  we  wisely  determined  to  stay  here  all 
night  and  start  early  to-morrow  morning.  At  all  events 
we  shall  I  trust  get  to  Paris  on  Sunday,  which  is  all  I 
count  on. — This  town  on  further  observation  and  experi- 
ment is  abominable,  everything  ti  Vangloise,  even  to 
the  beds,  and  so  my  companions  think,  and  are  very 
sorry  they  were  by  some  former  arrangements  obliged 
to  come  here.  I  have  retired  quietly  to  my  own 
room,  and  I  shall  go  at  eight  o'clock  and  treat  Mrs. 
Rice  with  some  of  my  good  Tea  and  then  very  soon 
to  bed,  for  I  feel  now  tired  with  all  my  morning's 
amusement.  I  have  bought  a  basket  of  French  Plums 
for  you,  packed  up  like  Harry  Sanereds  pears,  but 
which  I  hope  you  will  find  better,  and  if  not,  they 
are  not  ruinous.  Whether  you  will  ever  get  them  is 
another  question,  which  I  am  afraid  I  hardly  asked 
myself  when  I  bought  them.  However,  I  will  try 
what  my  Dover  Friends  can  do  for  me.  Tell  my  dear 
Caroline,  with  my  love,  that  were  I  not  going  to  Paris, 
en  droiture,  I  should  certainly  smarten  myself,  as  she  did 
at  some  of  the  shops  here,  which  are  wonderfully  im- 
proved and  really  look  very  tempting.  And  now  once 
more  farewell,  for  these  are  really  my  last  words — my 
next  letter  must  be  from  Paris,  I  cannot  well  write 
another  word.    God  bless  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37227,  f.  141. 


PHILIP,    EARL   OF    HARDWICKE 
From  an  engraving  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadlty,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     311 

Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Rue  d'Anjou  [Paris],  Sunday  Evening,  8  o'clock,  March  3,  18 16. 

Well,  dearest  Agnes,  I  arrived  soon  after  4  o'clock 
to-day,  at  least  2  hours  before  I  was  expected,  which  I 
always  like  doing,  if  possible.  My  letter  announcing 
the  certainty  of  my  setting  out,  and  the  hopes  of  my 
getting  here  to-day  never  reached  Lady  Hardwicke1  till 
late  last  night,  so  writing  to  me  was  impossible  any- 
where but  to  the  post-house  at  St.  Denis,  which  they  had 
kindly  done.  The  message  passed  me  on  the  road  from 
my  being  so  much  sooner  than  they  expected.  But  no 
matter.  My  reception  was  such  as  to  make  all  an- 
nouncing unnecessary  and  to  make  me  (as  I  am  sure  it 
would  you)  rejoice  that  I  had  come.  I  found  dear  Lady 
Hardwicke,  alone,  just  as  I  could  have  wished.  She  was 
quite  angry  at  Phillip  announcing  me  Miss  Berry  as  if 
I  had  been  an  ordinary  visitor.  Phillip,  however,  had 
given  me  a  most  smiling  greeting  in  the  Courtyard  and 
was  the  first  face  of  the  family  that  I  saw,  for  we  had  to 
trail  up  and  down  the  Rue  d'Anjou  in  search  of  their 
house  (as  one  always  does  at  Paris),  and  at  last  paid 
the  polite  cocher,  so  that  I  took  leave  of  my  companions 
in  the  street,  and  Emma  and  I  got  out  with  all  our 
loose  and  getable  baggage.  The  rest  is  to  be  sent  me. 
I  saw  Lord  Hardwicke,  who  was  likewise  at  home,  very 
soon  afterwards.  I  think  them  both  looking  well,  Lady 
Hardwicke  the  best  of  the  two,  altho'  she  has  a  bad  cold 
which  has  made  her  hoarse,  very  hoarse,  but  her  voice 
has  not  gone  and  I  will  not  let  it  go.  They  were  going 
at  six  to  dine  at  the  Ambassador's2  and  proposed  me 
going,  if  I  could  possibly  rig  up,  with  them,  which  I 

1  Philip,  third  Earl  of  Hardwicke  (1757-1834),  married  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  James,  fifth  Earl  of  Balcarres.  Their  daughter,  Elizabeth,  married  in 
February  1818. 

a  Sir  Charles  Stuart  (afterwards  Lord  Stuart  de  Rothesay),  British  Am- 
bassador at  Paris. 


312  BERRY    PAPERS 

could  not  have  done  for  the  world,  as  I  really  counted 
on  getting  a  quiet  evening  here  to-night,  to  set  me  up, 
and  give  me  time  to  write  to  you  and  to  recall  all  my 
very  hurried  thoughts,  which  I  find  I  require  much  more 
and  am  much  longer  about  than  formerly.  I  had  a 
long  comfortable  talk  with  Lady  Hardwicke  till  the 
moment  she  was  obliged  to  go  to  dinner,  and  I  rejoice 
to  find  that  everything  here  is  going  on  so  much  better, 
even  in  her  eyes,  than  I  expected,  and  I  should  think 
and  she  thinks  too,  is  mending  daily.  But  I  again 
repeat,  that  I  rejoice  I  have  come  to  her,  because  I  think 
she  seems  to  rejoice  in  it,  and  because  I  think  I  shall 
give  her  a  little  useful  fillip  and  prevent  her  dwelling 
too  eternally  on  one  set  of  ideas,  and  being  interested  on 
one  single  point,  on  which  by  fixing  her  quick  eyes  too 
long,  she  is  apt  not  to  see  so  truly. 

Their  house  here  is,  I  think,  a  dull  one,  but  that  is 
no  matter,  for  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  they  move  to 
one  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore,  which  is  much  more 
cheerful  and  near  1' Hotel  de  l'Ambassade.  In  the 
meantime  I  am  installed  in  a  very  warm,  comfortable 
little  French  bedchamber  with  a  Garderobe,  etc.  etc., 
where  I  have  just  had  some  tea,  after  having  had  un 
trH  joli  ■petit  diner  apprite  par  Mr.  Fisch6,  who,  to  my 
surprize,  I  find  perfectly  recovered  and  once  more  in- 
stalled as  their  cook.  I  have  already  had  a  long  talk 
with  Mrs.  Maidwell  about  Mantua-makers,  Milliners, 
brodeuses,  etc.  etc.,  and  to-morrow  shall  first  set  about 
rigging  myself  and  then  you. 

I  have  no  time  to  write  to  you  about  my  journey 
now  it  is  over,  and  I  had  no  time  to  write  to  you  while 
it  was  about.  The  cold  was  so  excessive  at  Dover,  on 
the  water,  at  Calais,  and  where  we  stopped  the  first 
night,  that  a  cold  in  my  head  which  I  felt  at  Sitting- 
bourne  was  so  completely  and  rapidly  developed  by  it  that 
the  first  night  after  Calais  I  had  a  violent  head-ache  and 
did  not  altogether  know  what  was  going  to  become  of 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     313 

me,  but  I  got  right  in  the  course  of  the  next  day,  by  a 
hot  bottle  at  my  feet,  by  Rhubarb,  Magnesia,  and  by 
your  plan  of  starving,  which  I  adhered  to  most  strictly. 
Such  a  woman  is  my  companion I1  Her  vulgarity  is 
nothing  in  comparison  to  her  folly  and  ignorance  ;  she 
never  knew  for  two  minutes  together  what  she  wanted, 
and  instead  of  managing  or  arranging  anything,  was  as 
thoughtless  as  a  child  of  five  years  old.  However,  I 
cared  not,  knowing  how  soon  I  was  to  have  done  with 
her.  Indeed  it  is  wonderful  how  very  little  she  bored 
me  while  we  were  together  ;  which,  pray  tell  Mrs.  Femey 
with  my  love,  that  she  may  be  convinced  of  the  possi- 
bility of  my  travelling  to  Paris  with  Mrs.  Price. 


Monday  Morning,  March  4. 

I  was  here  interrupted  last  night  by  a  message  from 
below,  saying  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwicke  were  returned, 
and  Lady  Elizabeth  Stuart,  who  asked  if  she  should 
come  up  to  me,  which  she  did,  and  we  were  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  together  alone  before  we  went  downstairs. 
She  looks  thin,  poor  soul  !  which  I  am  sure  I  can't 
wonder  at,  but  otherwise  alright  and  well.  She  is 
delighted  at  my  coming  and  thinks  it  is  the  moment  of 
all  others  in  which  I  shall  be  of  the  most  benefit  to 
Lady  Hardwicke.  Their  enquiries  after  you  have  been 
many  and  particular,  and  much  said  of  your  kindness, 
and  the  whole  thing  taken  up  in  the  way  you  could  wish. 
Sir  Charles  [Stuart]  came  in  from  the  Opera  to  take 
Elizabeth  to  make  some  visits.  Lady  Hardwicke  says  she 
has  hardly  seen  such  a  kindly  smile  on  his  face  as  when 
he  met  me.  You  may  guess  I  shall  take  care  to  keep  on 
a  right  footing  with  them  on  every  account.  They  went 
away  in  less  than  half  an  hour  and  we  went  to  bed,  or 

1  "  Miss  Berry  placed  herself  for  the  passage  and  journey  under  the  convoy 
of  a  lady  and  her  son  with  whom  she  had  no  previous  acquaintance." — Miss 
Berry's  Journals  (ed.  Lewis),  Hi.  71. 


314  BERRY    PAPERS 

rather  upstairs,  for  of  course  Lady  Hardwicke  and  I  had 
another  long  talk.  Dear  Soul,  I  pity  her  heartily  for  all 
she  has  suffered  here,  altho'  she  now  hopes  and  believes 
all  will  go  well. 

According  to  my  laudable  custom  in  a  new  place  I 
have  slept  very  little,  but  I  have  nothing  wrong  about 
the  head,  and  my  cold  fast  going  off.  Elizabeth  told  us 
last  night  that  a  messenger  was  going  off  to-day  with  the 
Russian  Ratification  of  something  or  other,  which,  being 
a  bulky  concern,  she  could  put  something  else  along 
with  it,  and  if  1  get  out  in  the  course  of  this  morning 
with  Lady  Hardwicke  I  will  see  and  add  some  little 
secret  article  to  the  Treaty  for  you.  At  all  events  the 
letter  will  go  by  this  occasion.  But,  while  I  think  of  it, 
let  me  tell  you,  that  if  ever  you  want  to  write  to  me  in  a 
hurry,  let  it  be  by  the  common  post,  for  the  refugees 
from  hence  very  often  go  round  by  the  Army  at 
Cambray,  which  delays  their  arrival  3  or  4  days. 
However,  in  a  common  way  write  by  them,  because  it 
will  save  both  your  money  and  mine,  and  allow  us  to 
write  as  long  letters  as  we  please. 

As  to  all  my  letters,  and  all  my  visits,  and  all  my 
commissions  here,  I  shall  take  them  very  leisurely  and 
endeavour  to  enjoy  the  sort  of  quiet  which  I  think  one 
of  the  great  charms  of  a  Paris  life — doing  whatever  I 
can  with  and  for  Lady  Hardwicke.  My  journal,  there- 
fore, to  you,  which  I  shall  begin  this  day,  will  often,  I 
dare  say,  be  much  less  interesting  than  you  expect,  and 
you  may  perhaps  think  me  very  dull  and  doing  nothing 
when  I  am  spending  my  time  most  agreeably.  Read  as 
much  of  my  letter  to  dear  Aunt  Anne  as  you  please.  I 
know  she  will  not  think  me  over  vain  for  boasting  of  my 
kind  reception,  and  I  am  sure  we  owe  her  all  due  com- 
munication of  letters.  I  will  try  and  write  a  few  lines  to 
Mrs.  D[amer]  by  this  messenger.  He  goes  straight  to 
England,  and,  if  he  has  any  luck  in  wind,  you  will  get 
this  on  Thursday  morning,  at  latest.     I  am  longing  to 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     315 

hear  from  you  and  my  Father,  on  whom  certainly  my 
chief  anxiety  will  fall  during  my  absence.  For  myself 
taken  singly,  my  age  makes  me  feel  a  sort  of  indepen- 
dent indifference,  which  is  very  useful  and  leaves  one 
much  at  liberty  to  enjoy,  as  far  as  one  is  able,  what  falls  in 
one's  way.  Those  stupid  Prices  are  not  at  the  Hotel  de 
Grand  Batalier  where  they  had  an  apartment  taken 
for  them,  and  are  gone  to  some  other  hotel,  I  know  not 
where,  and  my  cloathes  along  with  them,  which  I  know 
not  where  to  send  for  them  and  which  they  have  not 
had  the  wit  to  send  to  me  to-day,  so  that  I  am  literally 
dressed  in  a  Capotte  and  frill  and  Bonnet  of  Lady 
Hardwicke's,  and  shall  not  be  able  to  go  and  dine  with 
Elizabeth  unless  I  can  contrive  to  find  them  out  in  time 
to  get  my  things  which  are  in  my  leather  hat-bag  and 
the  seat  of  their  curricle.  .  Ward  is  here  and  they  say 
has  mounted  a  mistress.  Don't  tell  Mrs.  Tighe.  And  I 
saw  Lord  Rosebery x  in  the  street  as  I  arrived,  which  is 
all  I  know  at  present  of  the  Bull  family  here. 

Monday  night,  10  o'clock. — Elizabeth  came  and  took 
me  out  to  two  Silk  houses  where  I  bought  two  Gauze 
Handkerchiefs  for  you,  which  the  messenger  carries  to- 
night. I  think  they  are  pretty  and  will  do  for  your  head. 
If  you  should  not  like  them,  you  may  sell  them  for  7s. 
apiece  and  pocket  qd.  by  the  bargain,  for  they  cost 
8  frs.  apiece.  Tell  me  if  they  are  the  sort  of  thing  you 
mean.  They  are  just  now  coming  in  to  be  much  the 
fashion  here  for  the  head.  In  the  meantime,  thank 
Heaven,  they  wear  very  much  and  generally  that  which 
is  the  best  of  all  fashions  for  me.  I  have  bought  for 
myself  a  white  satin,  which  they  advise  me  to  make  up 
at  first  without  my  tulle  over  it.  It  is  a  very  handsome 
one  at  8  frs.  a  yard. 

With  great   difficulty  I  found  out  where  the  Prices 

1  Archibald  John  Primrose,  fourth  Earl  of  Rosebery  (1783-1868).  He 
succeeded  to  the  title  in  1814,  and  was  himself  succeeded  by  his  grandson, 
the  present  earl. 


316  BERRY    PAPERS 

had  lodged  themselves,  and  was  obliged  to  send  for  my 
things,  which  came  so  late  that  I  should  have  been 
hurried  to  death,  if  I  had  been  obliged  to  put  them  on,  but 
on  the  contrary  Lady  Hardwicke  and  Elizabeth  both  in- 
sisted on  my  going  to  dinner  in  her  Capotte  and  a  white 
hat  which  she  lent  me.  So  as  they  were  satisfied  I  was, 
and  away  I  went  with  them  to  dinner  at  the  Ambassador's. 
There  was  literally  nobody  but  ourselves,  Peter  Stuart 
(Lord  Bute's  brother)  and  George  Dawson,  his  two 
satellites.  The  house  is  magnificent  and  Elizabeth  very 
properly  at  home  in  it. 

Soon  after  9,  while  we  were  there,  the  Post  arrived 
from  England.  The  basket  of  letters  was  brought  in, 
and  among  them  I  had  the  comfort  of  finding  yours, 
which  certainly  it  is  very  agreeable  to  receive  thus  h  la 
Premiere  main.  Your  poor  head  I  know  too  well  how 
to  pity.  Dear  Charlotte's  visit  would  do  for  it  com- 
pleatly.  But  there  are  people  whom  in  sickness  or  in 
health  one  would  always  rather  see  than  not  see,  and 
she  in  distress  too  ;  good  cheerful  soul !  is  certainly  one 
of  them.  I  have  written  to  Mrs.  Darner  by  this 
messenger,  and  now  farewell  for  this  time.  You  shall 
not  want  my  letters.  It  is  the  least  I  can  do  for  you.  I 
hope  to-morrow  to  go  to  the  Theatre,  but  sufficient  for 
the  day  is  the  employment  thereof.  Farewell  and 
Heaven  bless  you.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Wednesday,  March  6,  1816. 

Yesterday  morning  I  took  the  carriage  and  set  out 
making  some  visits  to  those  for  whom  I  brought  letters, 
as  I  found  it  was  already  known  the  important  event  of 
my  arrival  in  Paris.  I  called  on  Madame  Moreau, 
Madame   Greffulhes,   Lady   Cahir,   all  of  whom   I   did 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  78. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY   IN  SOCIETY     317 

find,  and  on  Madame  de  Coiquy,  whom  I  did  not,  but 
from  whom  I  have  already  had  a  most  emfiresse  note, 
saying  she  went  into  the  country  for  two  or  three  days, 
yesterday,  but  longed  to  be  back  to  see  me.  The  little 
Moreau  is  beautifully  lodged,  her  house  is  in  the  very 
best  style  of  Parisian  modern  elegance,  which  supposes  a 
cleanliness  and  tidiness  about  everything  unknown  to 
their  former  magnificence.  She  was  delighted  to  see 
me,  but  before  she  could  get  out  two  words,  turned  to 
be  angry  with  her  lacquey  for  attempting  to  light  a  fire 
in  the  piece  in  which  we  were  instead  of  showing  us 
into  the  Boudoir.  In  short  it  is  a  little,  cold,  prim,  harsh 
thing,  like  its  voice,  which  one  can  well  pardon  oneself 
for  making  use  of,  and  being  civil  to,  without  either 
liking  or  caring  for.  She  is  to  come  and  take  me  out 
this  day  at  one  o'clock  to  some  shops,  but  Lady 
Hardwicke  and  Elizabeth  have  both  warned  me  not  to 
put  myself  too  much  in  her  power,  for  they,  like  us, 
don't  think  her  taste  at  all  perfect  and  she  is  most 
despotic  in  her  ideas  of  it. 

The  Mantua-maker,  who  made  our  Blue  Gowns,  has 
worked  much  for  them  and  is,  I  think,  a  very  good  one. 
I  have  already  had  her  here  this  morning  and  given  her 
my  poplin  to  make,  to  show  the  little  Moreau  that  I  can 
start  a  little  for  myself.     But  to  my  journal. 

The  Greffulhes  are  persons  here  of  whose  measure 
we  had  little  notion  in  London.  They  are  magnificently 
lodged  and  receive  and  are  received  by  the  very  best 
and  first  French  company.  They  gave  me  a  most 
amical  reception,  and  wanted  me  to  dine  with  them  too, 
which  I  declined  from  not  knowing  anything  of  Lady 
Hardwicke's  arrangements.  But  they  are  at  home  every 
Wednesday  evening  with  all  the  very  best  society  of 
Paris,  and  there  I  shall  make  my  debut  to-night  in  the 
blue  gown  and  the  Moreau  Hat  which  is  all  I  have  at 
present  ready. 

Elizabeth  says  Sir  Charles  [Stuart]  has  been  already 


318  BERRY    PAPERS 

asking  when  I  meant  to  come  out.  Whenever  it  is  I 
should  be  sorry  (in  spite  of  my  own  insignificance)  that 
it  should  not  be  convenablement  as  his  and  their  friends, 
therefore  I  am  rigging  myself  up  as  fast  as  ever  I  can. 
I  have  lived,  yes,  literally  lived,  in  a  black  Reps  Pelisse 
of  Lady  Hardwicke's,  which  one  may  wear  from  morning 
to  night  in  this  place,  and  with  a  large  Bonnet  go 
anywhere  except  to  great  dinners  and  evening  parties ; 
and  in  this  dress  with  a  white  borrowed  hat  I  was  last 
night  for  a  moment  at  the  Opera. 

But  to  go  on  with  my  journal,  from  which  I  find  I  have 
taken  too  long  excursions  into  the  region  of  dress,  but 
these  will  be  soon  less  in  my  way  and  my  thoughts  than 
at  present.  As  soon  as  I  returned  from  my  visits  I 
received  one  from  Mrs.  Mason,  who  was  more  than  glad 
to  see  me.  She  likes  Paris  much  and  has  got  into  a 
good  deal  of  French  society.  The  Hardwickes  have  seen 
them  often  and  like  them  much,  both  he  and  she.  Lord 
Hardwicke  and  Sir  Charles  dined  at  a  great  dinner  at  the 
Due  de  Richelieu,  and  Lady  Hardwicke  and  I  with 
Elizabeth  and  the  three  young  inmates  of  the  house, 
George  Dawson,  Peter  Stuart,  and  young  Doctor  Lee, 
whose  name  I  have  not  yet  got.  Before  we  left  the  Hotel 
de  l'Ambassade  they  returned  from  their  great  dinner, 
and  after  some  parlage  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwicke  and 
Sir  Charles  and  I  went  to  the  Opera  and  Elizabeth  to  the 
triste  business  of  making  a  number  of  evening  visits  to 
all  the  Grandee  Ladies,  who  had  come  to  the  two  Soirees 
which  took  place  last  week  chez  elle,  and  which  Sir  Charles 
makes  a  great  point  of  her  returning  in  person,  as  a  great 
many  French  ladies  de  la  premiere  voUe,  many  more  than 
were  expected,  made  their  appearance, chez  V Ambassadrice, 
who,  I  assure  you,  everybody  unites  in  saying  had  the 
most  parfait  succte  both  on  her  presentation  and  wher- 
ever she  has  made  her  appearance  since,  particularly  at 
her  own  House,  where  she  received  and  spoke  to  every- 
body at  the  door,  which  has  not  been  the  custom  here. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     319 

Rue  St.  Honore  No.  99,  Thursday. 

We  yesterday  changed  our  house.  The  day  was 
shocking  for  the  purpose,  for  it  was  almost  a  continual 
storm  of  rain,  and  Lady  Hardwicke  so  very  unwell  with 
so  much  cough  of  irritation  that  I  felt  quite  uneasy  at 
her  moving.  However,  when  we  left  the  other  house 
at  5  o'clock,  we  set  her  down  at  the  Ambassador's  and 
Lord  Hardwicke  and  I  came  on  to  the  house  to  look 
after  the  fires  and  the  chairs  and  tables,  and  returned 
to  dine  alone  with  her  and  Elizabeth  while  the  servants 
were  settling  themselves  here.  Nor  did  we  stir  further 
in  the  evening.  Poor  Elizabeth  had  got  so  bad  a 
feverish  cold  and  inflammation  in  one  of  her  eyes  that 
her  going  out  was  out  of  the  question.  Ditto  Lady 
Hardwicke,  and  I  was  so  fatigued  with  my  morning  and 
two  hours  of  the  Moreau  voice  screaming  up  the  rattle 
of  the  streets  of  Paris,  that  I  was  quite  glad  of  an  excuse 
to  stay  at  home  too,  and  get  to  bed  early. 

This  house  is  one  of  the  Hotel  Dore  of  old  times. 
We  have  the  Rez-de-chaussee,  which  opens  into  a  large 
garden,  having  a  door  to  the  Champs  Elysees.  But  the 
weather  has  been  so  abominable,  such  perpetual  torrents 
of  rain  and  blasts  of  wind  ever  since  the  day  I  got  here, 
that  it  is  impossible  yet  to  properly  appreciate  the 
beauties  of  such  a  situation,  except  as  being  perfect 
repose  and  country,  in  the  most  frequented  part  of  a 
great  town.  My  bedroom  and  Emma's,  next  to  me,  is 
in  a  wing,  and  will  be  very  comfortable  when  we  get 
shook  into  it.  It  is  neither  very  large  nor  very  high, 
which  are  to  me  great  comforts.  Before  I  proceed 
further  let  me  tell  you,  or  rather  Harriot,  with  my  love 
to  her,  that  I  have  just  now  received  the  bits  of  the  fine 
worked  muslin  she  contrived  to  send  me,  and  that  the 
man  who  brought  them  offers  to  take  back  anything 
little  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday.  Well  I  saw,  and  Lady 
Hardwicke  too,  qu'il  fallait  bien  passer  par  la  Moreau  en 


320  BERRY    PAPERS 

Part  de  modes,  so  I  made  up  my  mind,  and  what  was 
much  worse  my  purse,  to  letting  her  advise  me  in 
ordering  a  Riding  Coat ;  that  is,  what  we  call  a  Pelisse 
without  wadding,  which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  wear 
here  of  a  morning  (and  indeed  all  day,  if  you  choose) 
to  avoid  too  many  white  gowns.  Mine  is  a  Reps  of  a 
queer  coloured  blue,  of  which  I  will  pop  a  pattern  into 
this  letter.  Then  we  proceeded  to  a  certain  Mile. 
Phanie  for  a  capotte,  Anglice",  a  Bonnet.  Mine  is  of 
white  crape  and  satin  with  a  tige  of  Jaccanthus  and 
Narcisses  which  is  to  cost  me  50  francs,  Anglice,  2 
guineas.  But  the  Moreau  is  persuaded  que  je  ferai 
sensation,  I  shall  be  so  perfectly  dressed  for  the  morning, 
including,  as  I  said  before,  the  possibility  of  going 
anywhere  in  the  world,  except  to  a  Ball  in  the  evening. 
So  much  for  toilette,  of  which  you  must  submit  to  hear 
perhaps  again  and  again,  and  only  comfort  yourself  with 
thinking  how  much  less  I  can  torment  you  on  the 
subject  than  if  you  were  here.  The  trial  of  Robert 
Wilson,1  etc.,  they  say  comes  on  this  week.  If  women  go 
to  the  trials  a  la  cour  d'Assisses  which  I  have  been 
assured  they  do,  I  shall  take  care  to  be  one  of  the 
audience.  He  is  to  be  tried  for  high  treason  and  they 
say  strong  circumstances  have  come  out  which  make 
his  case  worse  than  it  was  expected.  One  certainly, 
very  dishonourable  (as  /  understand  the  word),  is  too 
true  which  was  denied  in  England,  his  having  asked 
Sir  Charles  for  two  passports,  one  for  his  brother-in-law 
and  another  for  a  Major  Losack.     The  first  he  used  for 

1  General  Sir  Robert  Thomas  Wilson  (i 777-1 849),  with  the  assistance  of 
Michael  Bruce  and  Captain  John  Hely- Hutchinson  (afterwards  third  Earl  of 
Donoughmore),  contrived  the  escape  on  January  10,  1816,  from  a  Paris  prison 
of  Count  Lavalette,  who  had  been  condemned  to  death.  Wilson  sent  an 
account  of  this  daring  adventure  to  Lord  Grey,  but  the  letter  was  intercepted, 
and  the  three  Englishmen  arrested  in  Paris  on  January  13.  The  trial  began 
on  April  2,  and  on  the  24th  they  were  sentenced  to  three  months'  imprison- 
ment. The  Duke  of  York,  as  commander-in-chief,  severely  censured  the 
two  officers. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     321 

himself  and  the  second  for  Lavalette.  This  is  something 
to  my  mind  dreadfully  like  a  lie.  Bruce,1  who  is  only 
considered  as  an  accomplice,  said  to  his  avocat  after  a 
consultation,  "  ne  trouvez  vous  pas  qu'il  y  a  quelque  chose 
de  la  romantique  dans  ma  situation,"  which  I  conclude 
was  his  reason  for  putting  himself  into  it. 

I  am  writing,  I  am  aware,  hardly  legibly,  for  I  have 
got  the  thumb  disease  to  such  a  degree  that  I  can  hardly 
hold  my  pen.  Admiral  Linois  and  General  Boyer2  were 
tried  yesterday  at  their  own  desire.  I  have  not  yet 
heard  the  result,  about  which  nobody  seems  to  care 
twopence,  altho'  it  was  thought  they  would  be  con- 
demned. 

We  dine  to-day  again  at  l'Hotel  d'Ambassade,  because 
our  own  kitchen  here  is  not  yet  montS,  and  perhaps  I 
may  find  somebody  to  go  with  me  to  the  Theatre 
Frangois.  Mile.  Mars  luckily  is  here,  and  has  no  thoughts 
of  England,  I  hope,  for  two  months  to  come  at  least. 
I  shall  seal  and  finish  this  letter  now,  because  I  am  going 
out  between  one  and  two  to  the  mantua-maker's  to  have 
my  two  gowns  tried  on  and  may  be  hurried  afterwards. 
But  the  morning  is  always  delightfully  quiet  here. 

Lady  Hardwicke  is  much  better  to-day  and  much 
pleased  with  her  new  house.  So  much  of  her  cough 
and  spasm  on  her  breast  is  nervous,  that  it  will  not 
frighten  me  as  much  as  it  has  done.  Say  much  to  my 
dearest  Caroline  for  me,  and  read  all,  or  as  much  of, 
my  letters  as  you  please  to  her,  and  beg  her  to  write 
to  me,  sending  her  letter  to  the  office  like  yours.  I  am 
interrupted  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mason  being  in  the 
Salon.     From  the  Hotel  de  l'Ambassade  this    evening 

1  Michael  Bruce,  the  friend  and  travelling  companion  of  Lady  Hester 
Stanhope. 

a  Admiral  Alexander  Linois  and  General  Eugene  Edward,  Baron  de 
Boyer-Peyreleau,  were  tried  on  account  of  their  change  of  allegiance  on  the 
return  of  Bonaparte.  The  Council  of  War  unanimously  acquitted  Linois,  but 
the  Baron  was  condemned  to  death — a  sentence  afterwards  commuted  to 
three  years'  imprisonment. 

X 


322  BERRY    PAPERS 

I  made  Mrs.  Mason  carry  me  to  the  mantua-maker's 
and  some  other  places,  and  when  I  got  home  I  found 
Ward  and  Lord  Roseberry  with  Lady  Hardwicke,  and 
Ward  was  in  such  high  feather  and  so  glad  to  see  me 
and  so  questioning  about  England  that  I  delayed  dressing 
till  too  late  and  was  hurried.  Lady  Hardwicke  saved 
herself  from  dining  here,  but  insisted  on  my  doing  so 
with  [some]  people,  all  men  but  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mener, 
the  Consul  and  his  wife.  I  am,  therefore,  sealing  my 
letter  here  at  a  side  table  with  all  the  folks  in  the  room. 
We  dined  too  late  for  the  Play,  so  that  pleasure  is  re- 
served for  another  day,  and  I  shall  not  go  to  the  Spanish 
Ambassador's  if  I  can  help  it.  No  headache  yet,  but 
my  nose  from  my  cold  remains  as  troublesome  as  yours. 
And  now,  once  more  farewell  and  Heaven  bless  you. 
The  Ambassadorial  pens  are  intolerable.  The  English- 
men are  not  to  be  tried  till  the  end  of  this  month.  Say 
if  there  is  any  little  thing  you  want,  as  I  can  send  it  by 
the  Messengers.  But  keep  your  counsel.  God  bless 
you.1 

Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

No.  99  Rue  de  Faubourg  St.  Honore, 
Paris,  Wednesday,  March  13,  1816. 

To  begin  with  business.  Have  you  received  a  little 
packet  from  the  Office  containing  a  Gauze  Gown  for 
dear  Caroline  and  your  white  tulle  and  some  patterns, 
on  which  this  is  the  commentary  which  ought  to  have 
been  put  in  with  them,  as  well  as  the  letter  to  Caroline, 
but  it  was  all  done  in  such  a  hurry  that  there  was  no 
help  for  it.  The  pattern  of  lace  is  the  French  work, 
which  I  really  think  so  beautiful  as  to  be  not  at  all 
distinguishable  from  real  on  trimmings,  &c.  It  costs 
7  francs  10  sous  (6  shillings  and  2d.  a  yard).  The  silks 
were  three  [illegible]  at  the  same  price,  6/2d .  a  French 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  82. 


MADEMOISELLE   MARS 
From  the  Collection  of  A.  fit.  Broadley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  323 

yard,  and  two  flounces  which  are  now  made  much 
narrower  than  they  used  to  be  made  and  5  sous  dearer, 
that  is  to  say,  5  francs  5  sous  a  French  yard.  Say  if  you 
have  a  mind  for  any  of  them. 

The  weather,  except  one  single  day,  has  been 
intolerable  since  I  came  to  Paris,  never  a  ray  of  sun 
but  cold,  surly,  wet  weather.     Now  for  my  Journal. 

Saturday. — The  day  I  wrote  to  Caroline  I  saw  Mile. 
George  and  Talma  in  Britanicus.  She  is  a  fine  actress  by 
what  Joanna  Baillie  used  to  call  the  \illegible\  that  is  to 
say,  having  been  admirably  taught  executive,  everything 
she  has  [carried  off]  with  a  magnificent  theatrical  figure, 
her  face  not  unlike  Mrs.  Ferguson's  grown  very  fat  and 
set  on  the  shoulders  of  a  big  woman.  Talma  is  excellent, 
and  the  dresses,  costumes  and  decorations  superb.  We 
left  the  "  Medecin  malgr£  lui "  at  the  first  act  for  them 
to  make  a  French  visit  while  I  returned  home  four 
Passer  une  robe  and  go  with  them  to  Lady  Cahir's. 
There  was  a  party  in  a  smaller  room,  and  rather  fuller 
and  fewer  men  than  in  North  Audley  Street.  There 
were  many  more  French  than  English,  and  most  of  the 
Lady  Jerseys  and  Coopers  of  Paris.  As  this  was  the  first 
time  I  saw  them,  I  have  not  yet  got  their  faces  ticketed 
with  their  names,  therefore  as  yet  I  can  give  you  no 
particular  account  of  them  except  that  Ward  and  I 
agreed  we  would  turn  out  against  them  in  London  any 
day  of  the  year.  .  .  .  Ward,  too,  seems  a  good  deal  in 
French  company,  and  to  amuse  herself  here  a  merveille. 
To  these  parties,  whether  in  French  or  English  houses, 
one  can  go  before  ten  or  half  past,  and  one  leaves  them 
about  twelve  or  soon  after,  so  that  one  has  always  time 
(if  one  has  strength)  to  go  to  a  Theatre  first. 

Where  was  I  at  my  Journal  that  Saturday  night  ? 
Sunday  Morning. — I  went  with  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwicke 
to  prayers  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  in  a  Drawing 
Room  as  long  as  North  Audley  Street  with  a  marble 
floor  without  the  stove  lighted.     I  was  transee  de  froid, 


324  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  from  that  moment  felt  myself  ill,  having  waked 
perfectly  well.  I  afterwards  went  and  made  some  visits 
with  Lady  Hardwicke  to  Mme.  de  la  Tourdupin  (Miss 
Doyle's  Honorine)  who,  as  Gray  said,  was  very  glad  to 
see  me,  as  I  her.  She  is  a  heavy  looking  Mrs.  G.  Lambe 
on  a  Pedestal,  near  6  feet  high.  I  then  called  on  our 
poor  little  Fleury,  who  is  living  in  a  corner  of  the  great 
Hotel  de  Beauvais  very  near  us  but  she  did  not  receive 
me.  I  called  too  (tell  Caroline)  on  the  Vicomtesse  de 
Vaudreuil  at  the  Hotel  de  Caramany,1  on  the  rez-de- 
chaussee  of  which  Hotel  is  lodged,  who  do  you  think  but 
the  Baall  with  her  General  and  her  son  still  in  a  high  state 
of  education  ?  And  the  Baall  here  is  thought  exceeding 
good  company,  receives  all  the  very  best  French  society, 
gives  dinners  and  Balls,  and  who  but  the  Baall  has  even 
had  the  honour  of  being  suspected  of  being  un  peu  libre 
dans  ses  principes  for  having  given  a  Ball  in  Lent  at 
which  the  King  requested  the  Due  de  Berri  would  avoid 
appearing ! 

In  the  evening  I  went  with  them  and  Elizabeth  to 
the  Duchesse  de  Courlande  (Miss  White's  Dsse.).  She 
had  the  most  beautiful  Hotel  I  have  yet  seen  in  Paris, 
magnificently  meuble  with  every  sort  of  recherche,  and  is 
herself  a  still  young  looking,  ladylike,  affected  sort  of 
a  Grande  Dame.  There  were  few  people  there.  Among 
that  tew  the  Combermeres  and  Mrs.  Jackson,  just  as 
much  dressed  as  ever,  and  looking  all  the  better  for  her 
widowhood,  of  which  she  has  lost  every  outward  visible 
sign.  Without  being  positively  ill,  I  felt  myself  incapable 
of  any  exertion,  and  was  very  glad  to  get  home  and  to 
bed  and  to  warmth,  which  I  had  never  been  able  to 
recover  the  whole  day.  Next  day  I  waked  with  one  of 
my  worst  attacks.  Details  are  needless  God  knows  !  to 
you.  I  never  left  my  bed  till  5  o'clock  at  night  and  then 
was  hardly  alive.  However,  I  saw  Elizabeth  chez  moi 
for  a  few  minutes  at  her  return  from  Court  in  all  her 

1  Rue  St.  Dominique,  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  the  British  Legation  in  1801-2. 


. 


'•^^nww*" 


Libourd  ,  /-"'">' 

MDI.I.K.  GEORGES    IN    THE    PART   OF    PHEDRE 

In  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     325 

beamy  stones,  and  remarkably  well  she  looked,  I  assure 
you.  I  think  nobody  could  have  called  her  plain,  and 
remarkably  the  look  of  a  Gentlewoman.  Her  success 
here  among  the  French  is,  I  assure  you,  great,  and  she 
has  already  more  French  acquaintance  than  I  dare  be 
sworn  any  English  Ambassadress  has  had  since  the  days 
of  Lady  Stormont  or  any  other  one  else.  All  the  lies 
that  were  put  into  some  of  the  English  papers  about  her 
losing  her  earrings,  or  her  shoe,  or  I  know  not  what,  at 
her  presentation,  were  perfectly  false ;  never  anything 
passed  so  well,  without  anything  more  than  a  proper 
timidity  on  her  part. 

I  waked  yesterday  (Tuesday)  much  better,  without 
any  actual  spasm  but  with  all  the  weakness  which  ten 
hours  of  vomitting  necessarily  produces,  and  therefore 
remained  quietly  in  my  own  comfortable  room  all  the 
morning  seeing  nobody.  I  was  well  enough  to  dine  en 
tile  a  tete  with  Lady  Hardwicke,  and  in  the  evening  he 
and  I  went  to  the  Theatre  Francais  and  saw  Mile. 
Duchenois,  Mile.  George  and  Talma  in  Aga  and  the 
Avocat  Patelin.  Judge  with  what  little  fatigue  on 
my  part  when  I  tell  you  I  went  in  Mrs.  Palmer's  lovely 
grey  Douillette  which  I  had  worn  all  day  and  my  black 
bonnet  and  was  quite  as  well  dressed  as  needful. 
Besides,  the  Ambassador's  Box  au  Francois  is  a  snug 
little  hole,  where  indeed  only  two  people  can  see  well, 
but  to  which  one  might  go  in  one's  Bonnet  de  Nuit.  We 
were  home  by  eleven  o'clock,  had  some  tea,  and  I  am 
quite  well  again  this  morning.  But  this  severe  attack 
donne  h  penser,  and  shows  me  that  I  must  avoid  fatigue 
and  cold,  which  is  all  I  think  I  have  to  dread. 

And  now,  having  brought  up  my  journal,  I  must 
say  a  little  of  others  as  well  as  myself,  altho'  still  with 
reference  to  that  said  self.  I  was  so  well  two  days 
ago  that  having  got  over  some  of  the  plagues  of 
toilette,  &c.  &c,  I  wrote  to  Florian  to  come  and  see 
me   and   called,  as   I  have  told   you,  on   some  of   my 


326  BERRY    PAPERS 

French  friends.  Florian  called  the  very  next  day  while 
I  was  laying  almost  senseless  on  my  Bed,  yet  I  could 
not  help  an  internal  smile  when  Emma  said  Mr. 
Kircaldy  had  called,  so  had  Mme.  de  Fleury  and  the 
Moreau.  However,  I  have  written  notes  to  the  two 
first,  and  yesterday  I  saw  the  last  who  had  proposed 
to  me  for  the  day  before  a  petit  diner  chez  elle  et  les 
spectacles  des  Boulevards  le  soir,  which  I  should  have 
liked  much.  Now  I  must  tell  you  that  the  Due  de 
Richelieu  not  only  claims  my  acquaintance  but  Sir 
Charles  says  he  had  never  heard  him  say  so  much 
of  any  one  as  of  me.  To-morrow  I  dine  at  a  great 
dinner  at  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  now  the  Russian  Ambassador 
here,  who  likewise  acknowledges  and  asks  me  as  an 
old  acquaintance.  There  I  shall  probably  meet  the 
Due  de  Richelieu,  and  at  all  events  I  shall  dine  with 
him  either  on  Saturday  or  Monday  at  the  Ambassador's, 
who  has  named  me  for  two  great  dinners  they  are 
going  to  give,  at  one  of  which  I  shall  see  Talleyrand 
and  all  the  Court  people,  and  at  the  other  all  the 
Diplomats.  The  Vicomtesse  de  Vaudemont  too  (with 
whom  poor  Fleury  used  to  live)  has  heard  from  her 
much  of  me  and  is  anxious  to  make  my  acquaintance. 
Lady  Hardwicke  likes  her  (the  Vaudemont)  very  much 
and  thinks  I  shall.  So  you  see  if  I  can  but  keep  well 
I  shall  have  occasion  to  see  all  I  could  wish  here.  Tell 
Mrs.  Damer,  with  my  love  and  thanks  for  her  letter 
of  the  8th,  which  I  received  yesterday,  that  I  had  al- 
ready sent  for  Barrois  and  saw  him  yesterday.  He  is 
as  mad  as  Bedlam  on  the  subject  of  Politics  and  conse- 
quently very  entertaining.  He  has  promised  to  come 
to  me  often  of  a  morning,  and  to  bring  me  a  sight  of 
all  the  forbidden  political  Books.  I  receive  chez  moi^ 
so  I  can  make  him  say  everything.  I  doubt  being 
able  to  write  to  Mrs.  Damer  by  to-morrow's  courier. 
I  will  if  I  can,  but  I  know  she  would  be  the  last  person 
willing  to  hurry  me  to  death. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  327 

Thursday  Mornings  March  14. 

I  am  finishing  my  dispatches  before  breakfast  for 
fear  of  interruption,  as  the  Courier  goes  to-night  and 
we  dine  at  the  early  hour  of  \  past  5.  Lord  and  Lady 
Hardwicke  and  I  were  last  night  at  the  Variet6s  and 
saw  my  old  acquaintance  Bennet  and  the  now  more 
famed  Poitier  in  two  parts.  He  is  very  excellent,  Nature 
itself,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  believe  yourself  at 
the  Theatre.  Of  the  pieces  I  own  I  thought  little, 
they  would  very  soon  tire  and  disgust  one.  The 
Chef  des  Brigandes  which  I  had  heard  is  very  good, 
is  no  other  than  Bobinet  the  Bandit  and  I  think 
Liston  makes  more  of  it  than  Bennet.  But  we  are 
to  go  again  to  the  Varices  some  night  when  Sir 
Charles  is  to  order  all  the  best  pieces.  I  say  all,  for 
they  generally  give  four  of  a  night.  To  the  Theatre 
Francais  I  shall  go  oftenest ;  there  one  is  sure  of 
being  really  interested  and  entertained.  Luckily  Lady 
Hardwicke  loves  it  of  all  things,  and  I  have  not  yet 
seen  Mile.  Mars.  From  the  Play  we  returned  home 
at  very  near  eleven,  got  some  tea,  changed  our  dress 
and  went  to  the  Greffulhes'  who  receive  every  Wednesday 
evening,  and  we  were  not  at  all  too  late.  Their  house 
is  magnificent ;  it  was  Lavay's  (the  Due  de  Rovigo), 
to  whom  Bonaparte  gave  un  beau  matin  a  million 
(£40,000)  to  buy  and  furnish  the  house.  That's  what 
you  call  a  pie,  agreeable  Government,  when  the  Sovereign 
can  give  you  or  me  or  anybody  he  pleases  forty  or 
fifty  thousand  pounds  out  of  the  public  funds  and 
nobody  say  Bo  !  to  him  for  so  doing.  Yesterday  was 
the  second  fine  day  I  have  seen  here.  To-day  is  again 
damp,  rainy,  not  a  ray  of  sun  and  walking  impossible 
which  is  what  I  most  long  for.  George  Dawson  has 
very  civilly  offered  to  drive  me  anywhere  in  his 
cabriolet,  and  I  shall  accept  his  offer  some  day  to 
have  a  general  idea  of  all  the  new  buildings  begun  in 


328  BERRY    PAPERS 

Paris.  Our  Englishmen's  trial  is  again  put  off  sine  die  ; 
whenever  it  takes  place  I  shall  be  there.  General  Boyer, 
you  would  see  by  the  papers,  was  sentenced  two  days 
ago  to  be  shot,  but  they  said  last  night  that  the 
punishment  was  to  be  changed  to  deportation.  Of 
all  this,  however,  you  hear  nothing,  and  from  those  I 
live  with,  necessarily  perhaps  less  than  elsewhere,  so 
that  I  long  to  get  hold  of  people  whom  one  can  set 
talking.  I  have  got  a  note  and  a  measure  from  Lady 
Warren  to  get  her  a  Gown,  made  exactly  like  your 
white,  with  which  she  has  fallen  in  love.  Does  she 
mean  exactly  in  form  and  fashion  like  your  white  ? 
I  will  do  the  best  I  can  to  order,  but  can  do  nothing 
in  the  way  of  conveying  it  to  her,  or  indeed  anything 
that  cannot  take  the  form  of  a  packet  of  papers.  She 
says  she  has  paid  you  £7.  You  must  pay  it  into 
Coutts's  hands,  to  be  forwarded  to  me,  for  I  am  sorry 
to  say  everything,  even  silks  and  millinery,  which  used 
to  be  cheap  here,  are  almost  double  the  price  and 
every  little  thing  costs  money  as  it  does  in  England, 
which  formerly  used  not  to  be  the  case.  While  1 
am  on  the  subject  of  finance,  don't  let  me  forget  to 
answer  your  question  about  the  Taxes.  They  are  not 
due  till  after  the  5th  of  April  and  will  be  paid  out 
of  the  rent  of  little  Strawberry  Hill,  which  is  due  the 
25th  of  this  month  and  which,  according  to  Mr.  Alderman 
[Wood's]  orders,  I  begged  you  to  desire  Hoper  duly 
to  demand  the  first  or  second  week  in  April.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Friday  Morning,  March  15,  1816. 

Our  dinner  yesterday  at  Pozzo  di  Borgo's,  which  was 
a  grand  formal  affair  given  to  l'Ambassador  d'Angleterre, 
consisted  of  26  persons,  including  himself  and  his  secre- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  86. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     329 

tary.  I  shall  send  you  a  list  of  their  names  which  I 
made  out  after  I  came  home,  as  they  were  almost  all 
[French]  people.  You  would  have  been  delighted  with 
the  accueil  the  Due  de  Richelieu  gave  me.  It  was  really 
amical,  really  as  if  he  had  been  happy  to  be  carried  back 
to  the  days  of  his  youth.  He  led  me  into  dinner,  sat 
by  me,  led  me  out  again,  shook  my  hand  half  a  dozen 
times  and  was  remarked  never  to  have  been  seen  so 
gay  in  Company.  He  is  very  much  like  what  he  was 
as  a  young  man,  very  thin,  very  good-looking,  singularly 
like  a  gentleman,  with  very  grey  hair,  very  much  curled 
over  his  head.  He  asked  after  you  with  great  kindness 
and  insisted  on  coming  to  see  me.  This  he  may  never 
find  time  to  do,  but  I  am  sure  he  has  the  intention.  He 
talked  freely  of  affairs  and  not  in  a  very  consolatory 
manner,  fears  that  France  is  not  at  the  end  of  her  evils, 
nor  Europe  very  likely  to  enjoy  peace.  One  could  not, 
as  you  may  suppose,  much  develop  these  ideas  at  a 
dinner,  but  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  meet  him  again.  He 
will  not  be  at  Sir  Charles  [Stuartj's  to-morrow,  for  this 
dinner  at  Pozzo's  was  a  mixture  of  the  two  parties, 
as  you  will  see  by  the  list.  Talleyrand  and  the 
Marechals,  and  the  Due  de  Richelieu  and  some  other 
of  the  present  Ministry,  whereas  Sir  Charles  is  not  to 
mix  them  but  to  have  Talleyrand  and  all  his  set  to- 
morrow and  the  others  another  day.  Talleyrand ! 
could  you  see  him  !  such  a  mass  of  moral  and  physical 
corruption  as  he  appears  in  my  eyes  inspires  me  with 
sentiments  so  far  from  those  with  which  I  look  up  to 
great  minds  and  great  exertions  that  I  should  be  very 
sorry  to  be  obliged  to  express  what  I  feel  for  him.  He 
speaks  very  little  in  company  at  any  time  and  Sir 
Charles  says  he  looked  very  sulky  yesterday.  To-morrow 
perhaps  he  may  be  in  better  humour.  Madame  [illeg- 
ible] is  Robert's  friend,  to  whom  I  made  myself  known 
as  soon  as  she  sat  down  by  me,  and  was  graciously 
received.      M.   d'Ormond,   whom   we    are  to    have   in 


33o  BERRY    PAPERS 

London,  is  like  an  old  thin  white  moth.  She  was,  I 
remember,  in  old  days  a  fat  blassaide  woman  with  a 
sort  of  dry  (civil)  manners.  Her  fat  is  gone,  but  her 
[illegible]  and  her  dryness  remain.  I  might  have  gone 
to  a  Ball  at  Madame  [illegible]  last  night,  had  I  asked 
Pozzo  to  present  me  there,  but  I  did  not  care  for  it, 
and  was  as  well  pleased  to  come  home  here  at  10 
o'clock.  But  Lady  Hardwicke  is  quite  angry  at  herself 
for  not  having  insisted  on  my  going,  as  she  says  the  Ball 
was  very  pretty  and  a  number  of  people  there  worth 
seeing.  I  am  much  better  pleased  to  be  going  to-night 
comfortably  to  see  Mile.  Mars,  as  we  dine  at  home  and 
are  not  going  further  in  the  evening,  and  I  think  the 
Ball  yesterday,  after  the  vast  dinner,  would  have  been 
too  much  for  me. 

I  have  again  missed  Florian  and  Madame  de  Fleury, 
which  provokes  me.  I  am  going  this  morning  for 
money  to  Perregaux,  the  first  I  have  drawn  for,  and 
have  got  Mrs.  Mason  to  go  with  me.  The  weather  is 
beginning  to  be  good  and  I  was  yesterday  out  on  foot, 
which  you  know  is  my  delight.  We  had  a  walk  in  the 
Ambassador's  garden,  which  is  delightful  and  like  our 
own,  opens  into  the  Champs  Elysees.  There  one  sees 
a  great  many  of  the  trees  [destroyed]  by  Austrian  and 
English  Cavalry,  but  they  are  carefully  planting  others 
wherever  a  tree  has  been  injured,  and  this  is,  as  far  as 
I  have  yet  seen  the  only  d&gdt  of  the  foreign  troops 
perceiveable,  but  they  say  the  Bois  du  Boulogne  is  almost 
entirely  laid  waste. 

Saturday  morning. — The  day  after  the  16th  March.  I 
don't  like  its  own  particular  number  But  I  have  got 
up  without  the  least  headache  and  am  very  grateful  for 
it.  Well,  Mile.  Mars  is  not  Mile.  Coutat.  I  have  no 
doubt  I  shall  think  her  as  perfect  an  actress  as  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  do.  But  her  countenance  and  the 
first  look  of  her  disappointed  me.  It  is  an  intelligent 
but  a  vulgarish  face,  not  cachets  by  any   real   Beauty. 


TALLEYRAND 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     331 

The  [rdles]  too  I  should  think  were  not  very  favourable 
to  the  development  of  her  greatest  talents — Victorine, 
in  Le  philosophe  sans  le  Savoir  and  Mile.  Something 
(I  could  not  make  out  the  name)  in  La  Comedienne,  a 
new  and,  I  think,  bad  piece,  tho'  it  has  been  well  re- 
ceived. But  what  a  perfect  thing  is  French  Comedy  ! 
The  representations  of  their  life  and  their  manners  are 
so  perfectly  natural  that  all  idea  of  a  Theatre  vanishes, 
and  as  they  admit  of  much  more  conversation  and  less 
action  on  the  scene  than  we  do,  one  often  feels  oneself 
admitted  into  the  interior  of  a  private  House,  and  listen- 
ing to  their  family  arrangements.  I  long  to  see  Mile. 
Mars  again,  for  perfect  she  is,  and  perfect  I  have  no 
doubt  I  shall  find  her.  But  I  had  perhaps  heard  too 
much  to  be  struck  at  first  sight.  Since  breakfast  I 
have  received  your  long  and  kind  letter  of  Monday  last 
with  dear  Caroline's  note  enclosed  and  the  Staremberg's 
letter  to  which  I  shall  answer  with  a  date  that  will 
surprize  her. 

For  God's  sake  don't  hurry  and  worry  yourself  with 
the  world  either  out  of  doors  or  in.  Believe  me  cela  ne 
vaut  pas  la  peine  even  here,  which  one  may  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  call  le  tres  grand  Monde.  Lady  Hard- 
wicke  is  doing  wonders  in  it,  and  certainly  has  got  on 
wonderfully  since  I  came  to  Paris.  Not  by  my  assist- 
ance as  to  the  world,  don't  mistake  me,  but  by  being 
much  better  in  health  and  spirits  and  able  to  return  all 
the  French  visits  that  have  been  made  to  her,  and  to 
accept  all  their  invitations,  of  which  there  are  now 
many.  As  for  me,  without  poking  myself  forward  or 
allowing  myself  to  be  a  charge  to  anybody,  I  shall 
always  have  as  much  or  indeed  more  than  I  can  always 
manage  with  comfort.  I  want  to  get  hold  of  some  of 
my  old  stagers,  for  le  tres  grand  monde  in  which  we  live 
is  not  where  one  hears  most. 

My  last  letter  talked  to  you  about  our  three  wise  heads 
here.    The  Due  de  Richelieu  told  me  the  trial  would 


332  BERRY    PAPERS 

certainly  take  place  the  first  of  April.  Caroline  may  tell 
this  if  she  pleases  to  the  Burns,  without  just  saying  that 
I  heard  it  from  the  lips  of  the  first  minister  of  France. 
All  the  people  here  expect  something  (they  know  not 
what)  to  take  place  in  this  month  of  March  which, 
indeed,  after  the  troubles  of  last  year  I  don't  wonder  at 
their  supposing  must  always  produce  some  marvellous 
change.  But  what  they  want  not  even  Barrois  himself 
can  tell.  Many  are  persuaded  that  le  petit  Napoleon  is 
actually  at  Fontainbleau,  very  few  believe  the  father  to 
be  really  at  St.  Helena.  But  what  signifies  all  this  ? 
For  my  own  idea  of  things  I  cannot  help  thinking  que 
cela  ira,  but  not  without  Europe  being  any  priser  d'armer 
half  a  dozen  times,  and  this  bewildered  people  exhibiting 
a  few  more  proofs  of  their  profound  moral  degradation. 


Sunday  Morning,  l"jth. 

I  have  been  lucky  hitherto  about  my  dinners.  The 
Comte  Alexis  de  Noailles  had  me  in  yesterday,  and  I  sat 
between  him  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  claimed 
my  acquaintance,  and  with  whom  I  had  a  great  deal  of 
very  interesting  conversation.  The  simplicity  and  frank- 
ness of  his  manners,  and  the  way  in  which  he  speaks 
of  public  affairs  are  really  those  of  a  great  man  :  altho' 
talking  of  the  allied  sovreigns,  their  views,  &c.  &c,  he 
says  we  found  so  and  so,  we  intend  such  and  such  things, 
quite  as  treating  de  Couronne  a  Couronne.  I  diverted  him 
much  with  the  constant  idea  of  his  never  returning  to 
Vetdt  de  simple  citoyen.  Alexis  de  Noailles  was  very 
agreeable  and  entertaining  too  ;  he  is  a  D6put6  and  one 
of  the  most  violent  Modernes.  The  dinner  was  of  26  or 
27  people,  but  almost  all  of  Talleyrand's  gang,  headed 
by  that  old  incarnation  of  corruption  himself.  The 
women  are  some  of  the  youngest  and  most  fashionable 
of  Paris.     There  were  no  English  at  all  but  the  Hard- 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  333 

wickes,  myself,  and  Stratford  Canning.1  In  the  evening 
there  was  a  Ball  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's.  Poor 
Elizabeth  had  a  violent  cold  on  her  breast  and  Lady 
Hardwicke  was  so  little  well  that  neither  of  them  went. 
But  they  insisted  on  my  going  for  half  an  hour  with 
Lord  Hardwicke  and  Sir  Charles  for  my  cavaliers,  so 
I  consented,  feeling  myself  not  tired  and  wishing  to 
see  the  inside  of  the  Elysee  Bourbon,  the  last  house 
Bonaparte  inhabited  in  Paris,  now  the  abode  of  an 
English  commander-in-chief,  surrounded  by  a  guard  of 
French  soldiers  ! ! 

Enter  Florian  de  Kergolay.  Florian  is  a  much  better 
looking  man  at  near  fifty  than  he  was  at  twenty.  He 
was  really  very  glad  to  see  me,  and  enquired  most  kindly 
and  particularly  after  you.  We  had  a  talk  of  near  an 
hour  together  before  I  took  him  in  to  Lady  Hardwicke. 
He  is  an  utter  Royalist,  so  that  I  have  luckily  found 
acquaintances  in  all  the  different  parties  whom  I  can 
make  talk  and  talk  to.  I  am  to  dine  to-morrow  with 
Florian  en  famille  to  be  introduced  to  his  wife,  who  was 
a  Mile,  de  la  Lacune,  niece  to  the  Ambassador  we  had  in 
England.  This  would  be  awkward  with  an  English- 
woman, but  I  shall  not  mind  it  at  all  with  him  for  my 
introductor.  I  am  just  returned  from  seeing  Madame 
de  Fleury.  She  is  not  horribly  changed  as  I  expected, 
nor  indeed  much  more  than  one  might  expect  she  would 
be,  except  her  figure  which  is  grown  thick  and  square. 
She  was,  or  she  pretended  to  be,  enchanted  to  see  me, 
and  embraced  me  half  a  dozen  times.  We  had  then  a 
great  deal  of  very,  good  conversation,  and  she  speaks 
with  all  her  former  precision  and  clearness.  She  is  so 
near  me  that  I  can  go  to  her  afoot,  and  I  intend  often 
to  see  her.  I  go  on  Tuesday  evening  with  her  to 
Madame  de  Vaudemont.     To-day  we    dine   again    chez 


1  Stratford  Canning,  afterwards  first  Viscount  Stratford  de  Redcliffe  ( 1 786- 
1880),  diplomatist. 


334  BERRY    PAPERS 

V Ambassadrice  with   a   small   party  among  whom   (tell 
Caroline)  is  Pauline,  whom  I  have  not  yet  met. 

Now  for  a  word  of  home.  Never  mind  Parsons's 
follies,  he  talks  as  if  he  were  much  affronted,  and  is  all 
the  better  for  it  afterwards  ;  besides,  be  quietly  looking 
out  for  another  servant,  for  he  is  certainly  very  useless 
anywhere  but  in  a  drawing-room  or  at  a  sideboard. 
When  Robert  comes  to  town  you  had  better  speak  to 
him  yourself  about  that  poor  uncle  of  ours.  I  once 
did,  and  found  him  quite  reasonable  and  proper  on 
the  subject,  and  my  father  may  make  some  bother  on 
the  subject  of  what  it  is  he  wants.  Lady  Warren's 
Gown  I  shall  order  and  she  must  likewise  find  the  way 
of  getting  it  over  and  you  must  tell  her  so.  Lady 
Davy's  Reding-Got,  car  c'esl  ainsi  qu'il  faut  appeler,  waits 
only  to  know  if  she  would  like  a  Ress  or  one  Double 
et  garni  en  blond.  I  enclose  you  a  pattern  of  mine, 
which  looks  mighty  handsome  and  respectable  and 
nothing  more.  I  likewise  enclose  you  patterns  of  two 
silks  pinned  together,  of  each  of  which  I  have  taken 
a  Gown,  as  six  French  yards  cost  only  thirty  shillings. 
The  Green  I  am  going  to  make  up  as  some  sort  of 
morning  and  Theatre  Gown  directly.  The  other 
patterns  are  all  the  same  piece,  say  if  you  want  one. 
Stockings  are  very  beautiful  here  at  12  frs.  a  pair  opened 
and  embroidered  all  round.  I  have  got  two  Ribbons 
for  your  head,  one  white  and  one  coloured.  I  doubt 
you  much  liking  them,  but  they  are  the  only  ones  I 
could  get  of  the  sort  you  want  in  that  width.  Do  you 
like  any  of  the  enclosed  velvet  ribbons  ?  They  are  one 
shilling  a  French  yard,  the  others  one  shilling  and 
threepence.  Send  me  by  Pepys — who  sets  out  the  end 
of  this  month  and  travels  in  a  carriage  he  is  bringing 
for  Sir  Charles  [Stuart] — your  pattern  shoes,  the  little 
frills  that  I  had  for  the  inside  of  the  collars  of  my 
Douillettes  and  all  my  green  feathers.  Everybody  is 
wearing  feathers  here,  and  their  price  is  enormous.    Je 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     335 

vous  annonce  that  some  of  your  white  ones  are  figuring 
on  my  head  in  a  toque,  but  I  will  bring  them  clean. 
Send  the  enclosed  note  directly  by  the  P.  Post  to 

.     He  will  send  you  a  copy  of  Madame  du  Deffand's 

letters,  which  Pepys  must  bring  to  Paris  for  me.  The 
enclosed  gauze  handkerchief  looked  clean  in  the  shop 
and  looks  dirty  out  of  it  and  I  am  afraid  is  too  small, 
but  they  are  now  of  a  larger  size. 


Monday,  \%th. 

I  have  found  this  morning  in  the  -pack  of  a  silk 
mercer  who  has  been  here,  a  much  better  gauze  hand- 
kerchief, which  I  send  you  instead  of  the  all  white  one 
which  I  shall  change  at  the  shop  I  got  it.  Of  the  en- 
closed patterns  of  striped  green  and  white  silk  I  can 
have  a  full  quantity  for  35  shillings.  Would  not  you 
advise  me  to  take  it  ?  If  you  would  like  me  to  send  you 
over  a  Gown  of  les  petites  soies,  I  can  do  it  by  any  of 
the  messengers  in  a  letter.  You  must  send  me  likewise 
by  Pepys  that  striped  lustring  which  Mrs.  Damer 
bought  for  me,  as  I  have  found  the  silk  mercer  who 
sold  it,  and  is  willing  to  change  it,  and  I  can  have  a 
beautiful  gauze  in  its  place.  Nothing  need  be  done  to 
it  in  the  folding  up  way,  for  they  make  no  sort  of  diffi- 
culty about  silks  leaving  England  or  coming  to  Calais, 
and  as  Pepys  travels  in  a  chaise  all  to  himself  he  will 
have  plenty  of  room. 

Our  dinner  yesterday  was  dullish,  altho'  I  was  led 
in  and  sat  by  a  M.  de  Bennay,  the  Minister  going  to 
Berlin,  who  desired  to  be  introduced  to  me  as  the 
friend  of  [Charles]  Stuart,  an  agreeable  middle-aged 
Frenchman,  very  conversable.  Pauline  is  grown  old 
and  very  hard-faced,  of  which  hard-facedness,  I  think 
her  character  d'esprit  always  savoured  a  little.  She 
made  a  thousand  enquiries  after  Lady  Douglas  and 
Caroline,  and  spoke  of  them  as  she  ought.     Her  brother, 


336  BERRY    PAPERS 

Caraman,  who  is  going  to  Vienna,  is  a  very  agreeable 
person. 

And  now  farewell,  I  don't  know  when  you  will  get 
as  long  a  letter  from  me  again.  A  very  bad  day  has 
given  me  time  to  finish  it  and  to  write  to  Mrs.  Darner. 
I  am  afraid  you  will  both  think  my  handwriting  detest- 
able, which  I  am  aware  of.  It  is  a  disease  that  has 
dreadfully  increased  since  I  came  to  Paris.  Don't 
forget  my  things  by  Pepys,  send  them  to  him  as  soon 
you  get  this,  and  above  all  don't  worry  yourself  to 
death  about  other  people  and  fall  irrecoverably  into 
the  hurried  disease  to  which  you  know  you  are  subject. 
Once  more,  farewell.  I  will  go  on  with  my  journal,  but 
it  must  be  en  raccourci.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Wednesday  Evening,  March  20,  18 16. 

If  I  don't  begin  and  run  after  my  journal  very  hard, 
I  find  I  shall  never  be  able  to  overtake  it.  My  dinner 
at  Florian's  on  Monday  was  a  curious  one.  I  was 
obliged  to  present  myself  to  his  wife,  for  he  was  not 
yet  returned  from  the  Chambre  des  Deputes,  where 
he  passes  his  life.  I  found  a  woman  very  like  your 
favourite  Lady  Pembroke  both  in  person  and  manner, 
which  did  not  impress  me  with  as  favourable  an  idea 
as  it  would  you,  and  certainly  her  reception  did  not 
dispose  me  more  favourably.  She  was  civil  and  cool, 
had  not  the  least  put  herself  out  of  the  way  to  receive 
me,  and  tho'  she  said  she  had  heard  often  of  us  from 
Florian,  did  not  seem  a  bit  the  better  disposed  to  like 
me  or  forgive  me  for  being  an  Englishwoman.  Before 
Florian  got  back  from  his  Chambre,  the  elder  brother 
entered,  which  was  a  great  relief,  for  he  seemed  really 
glad  to  see  me,  and  with  him   I   had  no  difficulty  in 

1  Add  MSS.  37727,  f.  91. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     337 

making  conversation.  He  was  our  only  society  with 
their  three  children,  who  dined  with  us.  They  are 
all  ultra-Royalists,  and  more  profoundly  benighted  in 
ignorance  and  prejudice  than  any  of  the  many  other 
parties  which  divide  this  bewildered  country,  altho' 
they,  like  a  hundred  others,  sincerely  wish  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  France,  but  how  to  compass  it  the 
honest  and  well-meaning  have  not  the  smallest  idea, 
or  place,  or  view  in  common  with  one  another,  while 
the  knaves  act  in  perfect  unison  with  the  general  cor- 
ruption and  moral  degradation  of  the  nation. 

But  I  have  no  time  for  politics  with  you,  for  I  have 
now  found  so  many  acquaintances  and  so  many  engage- 
ments that  I  must  give  my  journal  with  as  few  observa- 
tions as  possible  and,  keeping  to  facts,  leave  comments 
till  we  visit.  I  left  the  Kergolays  between  9  and  8  with 
indisposition  to  return  to  a  woman  who,  I  am  sure, 
took  me  for  a  Rcpublicaine  Anglaise  and  never  wished 
to  see  my  face  again  ;  but  I  was  much  entertained  to 
have  seen  her  for  once  and  the  manner  in  which  that 
sort  of  person  takes  up  politics  in  France  at  this 
moment.  From  them  I  went  to  the  Franc,ois,  where  I 
saw  Figaro,  not  acted  by  Mile.  Mars,  but  it  is  always 
entertaining,  and  I  was  amused  with  detecting  some 
parts  they  left  out.  On  Tuesday  19th  I  told  you  I  was 
to  go  to  the  Vicomtesse  de  Vaudemont  in  the  evening  with 
Aimee  de  Coigny,  but  I  knew  not  that  I  was  engaged 
to  dine  there  with  Sir  Charles  and  the  Hardwickes. 
Therefore  my  engagement  with  Aim6e  was  superseded. 
You  know  the  de  Vaudemont  is  a  great  Gun  of  Sir 
Charles,  and  by  what  I  have  yet  seen  of  her  Society  I 
should  think  it  really  the  best  sort  of  thing  and  the 
most  like  old  times  of  anything  going.  She  is  logie  d 
Rav6e,  by  far  the  most  comfortable  appartement  I  have 
seen.  She  is  herself  a  fat  fair  Flemish-looking  woman 
of  forty-five.  She  received  me  perfectly,  and  gave  me 
the  entree  libre  of  her   house,   where   she   is  at  home 

Y 


338  BERRY    PAPERS 

almost  every  evening.  We  had  a  dinner  of  ten  people 
only,  parfaitment  servie.  Between  nine  and  ten,  when 
all  dinner  parties  finish,  I  went  and  beat  up  the  quarters 
of  the  old  [illegible],  who  badly  recollected  me  at  first 
and  was  delighted  at  seeing  me  afterwards.  In  came 
Lally  (now  a  de  France),  who  embraced  me  on  both 
sides  of  my  face  and  enquired  much  after  you.  She 
insists  on  giving  me  a  soirSe,  and  I  (like  Lugaune)  prend 
tout.  I  am  glad  to  see  all  sides  of  the  question.  Yester- 
day (Wednesday  morning)  I  was  at  the  only  shop  that 
has  given  me  much  pleasure  and  no  trouble  since  I 
came  to  Paris,  a  Fleuriste  (Marshall's  corresponding). 
Such  a  wilderness  of  beautiful  flowers  I  never  saw,  and 
none  of  them  more  than  6  or  7  francs  a  large  bunch, 
so  say  what  sort  of  colour  you  would  like,  for  they  are 
the  only  cheap  things  in  France. 

We  had  a  dinner  at  home,  that  is  to  say  Mason  and 
a  brother  of  his  and  the  Comte  de  Roderer,  the  lower 
part  of  whose  house  we  occupy.  He  was  a  distinguished 
person  throughout  the  Revolution,  and  his  conversation 
after  dinner  was  extremely  interesting  on  the  subject 
of  Buonaparte  and  Talleyrand.  Would  I  had  time  or 
rather  strength  to  tell  you  half  I  hear  !  In  the  evening 
we  went  to  Greffulhes,  where  there  was  a  large  and  very 
good  party.  Every  Wednesday  but  last  night  there 
was  too  great  a  proportion  of  the  English.  To-day  I 
have  had  a  visit  from  Lally,  and  from  old  M.  de 
Borigelin  and  the  elder  Kergolay  and  his  wife,  who 
none  of  them  seem  to  be  in  the  same  enrage  way 
as  the  wife  of  Florian.  I  had  before  agreed  to  dine 
with  them  on  Sunday  next,  and  the  old  woman  very 
civilly  came  to  see  me  to-day.  Having  been  twice 
obliged  to  refuse  difficult  proposals  of  the  Moreau, 
who  is  a  cross  touchy  little  thing,  not  pleased,  I  believe, 
at  any  of  us  for  feeling  quite  independent  of  her  and 
very  able  to  fend  for  ourselves,  I  got  off  a  dinner  to-day 
of  English  at  the  Ambassade  and  proposed  myself  to 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     339 

dine  with  her  and  go  with  her  to  the  Ambassador's 
Box  aux  Frangois.  But  she  was  luckily  engaged.  I 
say  luckily,  for  I  waked  giddy  and  not  very  well,  and 
was  rejoiced  to  be  obliged  to  do  nothing  but  what  I 
liked,  which  was  to  walk  to  Aimee  de  Coigny's,  and  si 
with  her  for  an  hour.  There  I  found  a  Comte  de 
Borsqelin  (who  the  D.  de  Richelieu  says  is  still  amoureux 
d'elles).  If  so,  she  has  hit  well  at  last,  for  he  is  a  very 
gentlemanlike,  quiet,  agreeable  man ;  and  either  my 
old  liking  for  her  blinds  me  or  she  is  so  still.  We  go 
together  to  the  Vicomtesse  de  Vaudemont  to-morrow 
night.  Lady  Hardwicke's  cough  was  so  bad  to-day 
that  she  refused  going  out,  and  we  have  dined  together 
comfortably,  and  I  have  only  left  her  now  to  come 
and  finish  this  letter  for  you.  Thank  dearest  Caroline 
for  her  letter,  for  I  know  not  when  /  shall  be  able,  I 
have  so  much  more  to  do,  and  above  all,  to  hear  and 
see  than  I  have  eyes  or  ears  for,  and  I  know  how  much 
I  shall  regret  hereafter,  not  setting  down  a  number 
of  things  that  are  passing  before  me  ;  but  alas  !  I  feel 
a  cruel  falling  off  in  my  former  powers  of  attention, 
memory  and  combination. 

To-morrow  I  go  for  the  first  time  to  the  Chambre  des 
Deputes.  Lord  Hardwicke  and  I  go  into  the  Diplomatic 
Box,  but  even  there  we  must  be  by  twelve  o'clock.  We 
dine  at  the  Ambassador's — Ward,  Luttrel,  Nugent,  &c. 
&c. — a  little  dinner.  I  have  at  last,  with  the  sweat  of  my 
time,  if  not  of  my  brow,  got  a  morning-gown  made, 
trimmed,  and  finished  for  you,  and  ready  to  be  sent 
whenever  we  can  trust  it  to  a  messenger.  But  we  are 
careful  of  doing  this  too  often,  for  fear  of  being  deprived 
of  the  means  of  doing  it  altogether.  You  must  tell  Lady 
Warren  that  her  Gown  is  ordered  and  making,  but  she 
must  find  the  means  of  getting  it  over.  I  cannot.  Lady 
Hardwicke  says  your  morning-gown  is  beautiful.  It 
ought  to  be  so.  It  costs  you  exactly  ^3.  Tell  Harriot 
that  my  little  old  coloured  sprigged   gown  which  she 


340  BERRY    PAPERS 

would  put  up  for  me  is  the  admiration  of  all  the  Ungates 
and  Marchands  de  Modes  that  have  seen  it.  I  think  I 
shall  get  some  things  cheaper  made  now,  as  Aim6e  de 
Coigny  is  to  send  in  her  coutouriere,  who  can't  be  a  bad 
one,  but  who  she  says  is  celle  des  pauvres.  The  women 
here  must  never  pay  their  debts  or  must  spend  much 
more  than  we  do.  Give  my  love  and  thanks  to  Mrs. 
Darner  for  her  letter.  Tell  her  I  called  on  Lady  Kinnaird 
and  gave  her  her  message  yesterday  morning.  She 
goes  to  Bruxelles  on  the  ioth.  Tell  her  too  I  saw 
Barrois  yesterday.  He  is  as  obliging  as  usual,  and  is 
getting  something  curious  I  want  in  the  Rumow  way. 
All  my  friends,  on  all  sides,  give  me  things  to  read,  for 
which  I  have  no  time,  except  I  were  to  sit  up  all  night, 
which  1  have  no  inclination  to  do,  for  I  sleep  here  much 
better  than  in  London. 

The  weather  to-day  has  been  beautiful  for  the  first 
time.  Tell  dear  Aunt  Anne  that  Lady  Hardwicke  in- 
tended to  write  to-day,  but  won't,  for  having  knocked 
down  her  cough  with  Laudanum  during  the  night,  she 
has  not  yet  had  time  to  sleep  it  off.  But  in  all  respects 
of  health,  spirits,  views,  &c.  &c,  she  is  another  person 
since  I  came,  je  m'en  vante.  Elizabeth's  success  in 
French  society  (and  I  have  now  had  opportunities  of 
hearing  it  from  all  sides  without  any  suspicion  how  much 
it  interested  me)  is  perfect,  and  she  is  very  sensible  of  it. 
All  will  do  well.  She  made  a  mistake  and  took  up  the 
old  fashions  of  the  French  en  fait  de  menage,  for  the  new. 
II  en  reviendra  et  cela  bientdt.  Farewell,  I  wish  you  well 
through  my  horrid  writing,  which  is  execrable.  Love  to 
Anne,  I  hope  she  is  at  hand  to  receive  it.  Thank  father 
for  his  most  kind  letter.  I  know  he  don't  wish  me  to 
answer  it.     God  bless  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  98. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN   SOCIETY     341 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Friday,  March  29,  1 8 16. 

Dearest  Agnes, — I  sent  your  perkale  Gown  last 
night  by  the  messenger,  without  a  single  word  in  the 
Packet,  which  I  was  obliged  to  put  up  early  without 
knowing  for  certain  whether  or  no  if  it  could  go  in  the 
Bag  last  night.  Indeed,  at  all  events  I  had  little  time  for 
writing  yesterday  and  (as  I  told  you)  mean  only  to  send 
you  a  letter  once  a  week.  I  have  not  heard  from  you 
since  the  19th.  You  must  have  received  a  letter  from  me 
the  day  after  you  wrote,  enclosing  a  letter  for  Mrs.  Damer 
and  a  note  for  Longman  the  bookseller.  Last  night's 
courier  is  the  first  I  have  missed  writing  by  since  I  have 
been  here.  See  if  you  have  got  all  my  letters.  I  was 
far  from  well  when  I  wrote  my  last,  and  I  continued  so 
for  the  next  two  days,  I  believe  merely  from  over-fatigue 
and  not  having  time  enough  alone  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  On  the  Monday,  after  going  quietly  to  the  Play  with 
Lady  Hardwicke  and  Agnes  Gibbs  who  had  dined  with 
us,  I  returned  home  to  my  bed,  instead  of  making  a 
toilette  and  going  to  the  Spanish  Ambassadress's.  The 
next  day  (Tuesday,  26th)  I  was  the  whole  morning  from 
half  past  eleven  till  past  four  in  the  Chambre  des 
Deputes,  with  the  elder  Kergolay  and  Lord  Hardwicke, 
and  the  attention  I  gave  to  their  speakers  fatigued  me  so 
thoroughly,  that,  tho'  I  made  a  toilette  and  went  to  a 
great  ministerial  dinner  at  the  Ambassador's,  I  felt 
myself  so  thoroughly  knocked  up  after  it  was  over  at 
nine  that  I  returned  home  instead  of  staying  there,  when 
there  was  a  great  soir&e  of  two  or  three  hundred  people, 
French  and  English.  The  next  day,  not  feeling  myself 
recovered,  I  resolved  to  draw  bridle  entirely  and  not  stir 
out  at  all  except  for  a  quiet  little  walk  in  our  garden 
This  set  me  up  again,  and  yesterday  I  had  a  drive  with 


342  BERRY    PAPERS 

Mrs.  Mason  as  far  as  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  by  way  of 
doing  me  good,  but  the  east  wind  here  is  at  this  moment 
colder  than  I  ever  remember  feeling  it  in  London,  altho' 
with  a  brighter  sun.  However  I  was  quite  equal  to 
being  very  well  entertained  with  Ward,  Nugent  and 
our  landlord,  Comte  Roderer,  who  dined  with  us, 
and  afterwards  to  make  our  toilette  and  go  to  the 
Moreau's,  where  was  a  concert,  still  more  disagreeable 
as  to  arrangement  than  a  concert  in  London,  because 
all  the  women  were  seated  in  three  rows  of  chairs  round 
an  oval  room,  without  a  possibility  of  moving,  or  of  a 
single  man  getting  near  them.  Lady  Hardwicke  and  I 
and  Ward  came  late  and  remained  in  the  outer  room. 
The  Moreau  was,  I  hope,  dans  le  Gloire  de  Niguee,  for  her 
party  was  the  elite  of  Paris,  and  was  certainly  the 
cleanest,  best  dressed  and  most  brilliant-looking  party  I 
have  seen.  At  twelve  we  left  and  went  to  Talleyrand's, 
that  is  to  say  chez  la  Comtesse  Edmond  de  Pengord, 
his  niece,  that  is  to  say  a  daughter  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Courland's  whom  he  has  separated  from  his  nephew, 
to  whom  she  was  married  (and  from  whom  she  made 
an  echappade  to  Italy)  and  has  taken  her  to  live  with 
himself,  dans  tout  I'etendu  du  terme  d  ce  qu'on  dit. 
Figurez  vous,  that  she  is  not  five  and  twenty,  and  has 
a  head  more  like  a  pretty  serpent  than  anything  I  ever 
saw.  There  we  found  again  music,  but  it  was  only 
Blanquir  at  the  Pianoforte  and  Mile.  Renaud  and 
another  Professor  singing.  The  society  did  not  consist 
of  above  20  or  25  people.  All  his  old  set  of  gambling 
women,  the  [Vicomte]  de  Vaudemont,  and  his  brothers 
and  other  members  of  the  Sainte  famille  with  a  few,  a  very 
few,  extra  men.  The  Appartement  has  been  newly  fitted 
up  for  her  reception,  and  they  say  there  is  30  thousand 
francs  of  [illegible]  in  it.  The  style  is  not  near  so  pretty  as 
that  of  many  others,  for  by  way  of  something  new,  they 
are  getting  back  to  India  papers,  old  Indian  China  and 
Jars,  and  white  silk  damask,  which  has  no  other  effect 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     343 

than  one  of  our  white  papers.  This  day  of  yesterday, 
however  amusing,  tired  me,  and  I  have  a  disposition  to 
faint  in  my  head  to-day,  not  headache,  which  I  am 
fighting  off  by  remaining  quiet  in  my  room  all  the  morn- 
ing with  the  hope  to  be  able  to  go  comfortably  to  the 
Box  au  Francois  to-night,  not  having  anything  to  do 
after  it.  But  having  brought  up  my  journal  to  the 
present  moment  I  will  write  no  more  to-day. 


Sunday,  March  31. 

Dearest  Agnes, — I  received  your  letter  of  the  26th 
(Tuesday  last)  yesterday  morning  and  at  the  same  time 
letters  from  Mrs.  Darner  from  Caroline  and  from  dear 
Anne  herself.  They  all  most  kindly  wrote  to  me  of  you, 
without  which  I  should  have  been  very  ill-satisfied,  in 
spite  of  your  gay,  frisky  letter  from  your  sick  couch,  but 
as  I  have  the  happiness  as  well  as  the  pride  of  saying 
that  I  can  depend  on  the  real  truth  from  all  the  three, 
and  the  accurate  medical  truth  from  Anne,  I  feel  toler- 
ably easy  in  the  hopes  that  this  violent  attack  is  over, 
and  that  if  you  will  take  care  of  yourself  and  allow  your- 
self to  be  taken  care  of,  you  may,  this  time  at  least,  have 
escaped  without  severe  suffering,  from  one  of  those  crises 
of  inflammation  to  which  it  would  seem  your  constitution 
is  liable,  as  the  three  maladies  mortelles  which  you  have 
had  in  the  last  twelve  years,  have  been  all  effects  of  the 
same  cause,  a  violent  tendency  to  inflammation  without 
much  fever.  When  I  talk  of  taking  care  of  yourself  and 
allowing  yourself  to  be  taken  care  of,  I  don't  mean 
coddling  yourself  in  any  manner,  but  in  avoiding  those 
worries  of  spirits,  and  worries  of  body  and  mind  which 
must  inevitably  tend  directly  to  increase  and  promote 
that  tendency  to  inflammation,  and,  therefore,  which  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  you  to  avoid  not  as  the  means 
of  prolonging  your  sojourn  in  this  world,  but  of  making 
it  the  least  painful  while  it  continues.     With  all  your 


344  BERRY    PAPERS 

care  I  do  not  see  but  that  you  have  still  (to  comfort  you) 
a  very  fair  chance  to  be  whipped  out  of  the  world 
some  day  by  a  good  rattling  fever.  I  desire  you  will 
read  this  part  of  my  letter  to  Caroline,  and  hear  what 
she  says  about  it.  To  Anne  I  mean  to  write  a  line 
myself,  if  I  have  a  moment's  time.  But  time  and 
strength  to  make  use  of  it  are  the  two  things  at  present 
wanting  to  me.  Don't,  therefore,  fancy  me  ill  or  fear 
my  breaking  down  altogether ;  that  is  not  my  way 
you  know.  When  I  have  run  a  little  too  fast  or  too 
long,  I  draw  bridle,  pull  in,  get  breath,  and  am  ready 
to  begin  again  just  where  I  was.  My  quiet  on 
Friday,  when  I  left  my  journal,  succeeded,  and  I  was 
able  to  go  to  the  Francois  and  enjoy  seeing  L'Avare 
and  Crispin  Rival  de  son  maitre,  without  making  my 
toilette,  which  is  happily  here,  never  necessary  for  any 
Theatre. 

Yesterday  (Saturday)  I  was  quite  well  again,  had  a 
long  entertaining  walk  in  the  Rue  d'Honore  by  myself, 
which  is  perfectly  permis  to  everybody,  and  much  more 
the  thing  than  having  a  servant  after  one  on  foot.  Lord 
and  Lady  Hardwicke  dined  with  Elizabeth,  and  I  in- 
dulged myself,  partly  under  pretence  of  writing,  and 
partly  not  to  fatigue  myself,  with  dining  in  my  own 
room  and  dressing  after  dinner  for  de  visite  with 
Aimee  de  Coigny  to  the  de  Vaudemonts,  but  we  found 
her  out,  so  I  carried  Aimee  home  again  and  then  joined 
Lady  Hardwicke  and  Elizabeth,  with  whom  I  went  first 
to  Mme.  d'Orglandes,  an  entirely  French  small  societe 
where  there  were  no  other  English  but  ourselves  and 
Lady  Leitrim.  Mme  d'Orglande  receives  every  Saturday. 
There  were  about  as  many  women  as  we  have  at 
North  Audley  Street  party,  with  not  a  tenth  part  as  many 
men.  I  found  there  Mm.  de  la  Tourdupin  (Miss  Doyle's 
Honorine).  She  is  very  civil  when  one  meets  her,  but 
does  not  seem  to  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
one,  to  which  I  have  no  difficulty  in  agreeing,  for  she 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     345 

has  none  of  the  grace  and  gaiety  of  her  mother  to  capti- 
vate a  common  acquaintance,  which  is  all  I  could  be. 
Her  sister  Mm.  de  Louvois  was  with  her,  who  looks 
the  more  pleasing  of  the  two,  but  I  was  not  presented 
to  her.  From  Mm.  d'Orglandes  we  went  to  the  Duke 
of  Wellington's,  whose  parties  are  always  a  concert 
and  afterwards  a  Ball  and  a  Supper.  A  great  many 
of  the  French  of  our  society  (talking  of  the  society 
new  to  me  now)  go  there,  and  last  night  there  was 
old  Talleyrand  and  all  his  gang  (by  the  bye  we  have 
two  parties  in  that  u supreme  bon  ton"  for  this  week). 
Of  course  you  may  conclude  we  neither  dined  nor 
supped  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's,  and  I  can't  say  his 
parties  are  very  entertaining  to  me.  I  see  less  French 
that  I  cannot  see  elsewhere  and  a  crowd  of  English, 
whom  I  never  saw  before,  chiefly,  I  suppose,  new  from 
the  Army.  The  little  Moreau  was  there  in  all  the 
glories  of  a  Velvet,  trimmed  and  double  trimmed  with 
blonde,  and  a  turban  of  the  said  velvet  si  heureusement 
pose",  that  she  was  quite  angry  at  my  not  noticing  it. 
However,  we  are  very  good  friends,  tho'  she  reproaches 
me  (without  thinking  the  worse  of  me)  for  being  always 
engaged  when  she  proposes  some  soiree  for  me.  I  have 
been  with  her  this  morning  to  the  Revue  of  the  Garde 
Royale,  between  eight  and  ten  thousand  men  in  the 
Champs  de  Mars.  The  brightness  of  the  sun  (tho'  as 
cold  as  an  east  wind  could  make  it)  and  the  crowds  of 
common  people  and  of  carriages  made  it  very  gay,  and, 
as  we  did  not  take  too  much  of  it,  I  was  very  glad  I 
went.  Madame  in  an  open  carriage  drawn  by  six  horses 
went  up  and  down  the  Lines  after  the  Princes  and  then 
6tat  Major  on  horseback.  At  each  end  of  each  line  as 
they  approached,  the  people  crowded  on  the  rising  bank 
which  encloses  the  Champs  de  Mars,  the  Princes  were 
received  with  considerable  acclamation  and  "  Vive  le 
Roy"  she  with  very  little  and  but  few  hats  touched  or 
white   handkerchiefs  waved.     In  short  she  is  hated  by 


346  BERRY    PAPERS 

the  people  and  supposed  to  breathe  nothing  but 
vengeance  and  bigotry,  while  her  manners,  by  what  I 
can  learn,  are  not  captivating  or  conciliating  to  those  of 
higher  rank.  Mme.  de  Goutant  and  Mme.  de  la  Terron- 
age,  who  you  remember  in  London,  are  the  two  ladies 
appointed  to  meet  the  new  Duchesse  de  Berri  at  the 
Pont  de  Beauvoisin. 

Monday  Morning,  April  i. 

I  assure  you  I  want  all  you  say  of  my  letters  to 
comfort  me  for  the  mortification  I  feel  at  making  so 
little  of  what  might  be  entertaining.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  I  have  felt  this  at  every  Packet  I  have  sealed 
for  you,  and  how  constantly  it  has  given  me  the  melan- 
choly assurance  that  my  bad  health  has  cruelly  helped 
on  the  progress  of  years  in  destroying  the  kindliness, 
activity  and  powers  of  combination  in  my  mind.  How- 
ever, because  I  can't  do  better,  it  is  no  reason  I  should 
not  do  what  I  can.  The  mortification  is  for  myself 
alone,  the  entertaining,  such  as  it  is,  for  you.  While 
talking  of  letters  it  is  really  provoking,  the  neglect  and 
inattention  of  our  Foreign  Office.  I  repeat  that  I  have 
written  to  you  by  every  courier  but  the  one  of  last 
Thursday,  and  you  were  a  whole  fortnight  without 
hearing  from  me.  This  I  learnt  by  your  letter  of  Satur- 
day the  23rd,  sent  by  the  post  which  I  only  received 
yesterday  (Sunday)  afternoon.  So  you  see  your  letters 
by  the  messenger  come  to  me  much  sooner.  The  fact 
is,  all  letters  are  stopped  at  the  Post  Office,  therefore, 
if  ever  you  do  write  to  me  by  the  post,  put  nothing  into 
the  letter  but  la  pluie  and  the  le  beau  temps  and  what 
you  immediately  want  to  write  about.  I  have  had  a 
most  kind  letter  from  Jugeville,  offering  to  be  my 
cavalier  on  my  return  home,  and  begging  to  hear  from 
me,  which  he  certainly  shall  do  in  a  day  or  two.  I  think 
he  will  probably  be  my  best  opportunity,  altho'  I  have 
already   had  an  offer  of  a  place  in  her  carriage  from 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     347 

Lady  Colin,  who  returns  the  beginning  of  May,  and  to 
whom  I  should  have  no  objection  as  a  travelling  com- 
panion. This,  however,  may  admit  of  arrangement,  and 
he  may  either  squire  me  or  both  of  us,  if  it  should  turn 
out  more  convenient  or  agreeable.  I  think  I  have  got 
a  better  pattern  of  a  morning  gown  than  the  one  I  sent 
you,  and  if  it  succeeds  with  myself  in  the  little  red  striped 
thing  I  brought  with  me  you  shall  have  your  other  perk- 
ale  so  made  up.  I  have  a  lilac  petite  soie  by  me  of  which 
I  enclose  you  a  pattern.  If  you  like  it  you  shall  have  it 
made  up  for  yourself  but  I  think  stripes  don't  do  en 
Reding-got.  The  piece  of  the  silk  cost  35  shillings,  only 
the  making  up  such  as  you  want  will  be  about  12  or  15 
shillings.  As  for  me,  I  have  been  obliged  to  spend  all 
my  money  in  gauze  trimmings,  a  trumpery  which  vexes 
me,  but  it  was  not  to  be  helped  in  the  way  I  happened 
to  be  living,  and  everybody  at  their  dinners  and  evening 
parties  look  always  as  if  they  came  out  of  a  bandbox, 
so  that  one  cannot  wear  the  same  things  for  ever,  or 
even  much  chiffone  en  revanche.  Everything  remains 
clean  here  in  a  manner  which  is  astonishing  after 
London.  While  on  the  subject  of  toilette  I  must  ac- 
quaint you  with  a  delightful  present  you  have  received 
from  Lady  Hardwicke,  no  other  than  one  of  those 
charming  fur-lined  cloaks  which  Mrs.  Damer  brought 
to  me,  and  of  which  I  did  not  know  either  the  charms 
or  the  absolute  necessity  of  having,  till  I  came  to  Paris, 
where  the  cold  of  the  stairs  and  anti-chambers  in 
full  dress,  would  kill  a  horse  without  them.  Aussi, 
I  am  every  night  wearing  yours  to  air  it,  and  I  verily 
believe  it  has  saved  my  life,  for  I  actually  perished 
in  shawls  only,  which  I  now  wear  in  the  Rooms 
and  the  saving  cloak  over  all  without.  It  neither 
crushes  nor  dirties  anything  and  is  the  comfort  of 
our  life. 

I  have  but  little  to  add  to  my  journal  of  yesterday. 
I  refused  going  to  the  Opera  with  the  Moreau  because 


348  BERRY    PAPERS 

I  thought  we  were  going  to  dine  quietly  at  home  and  go 
in  the  evening  to  the  Duchesse  d'Escars  (Miss  Boyle  will 
tell  you  who  she  is)  at  the  top  of  the  Tuilleries.  But 
Sir  Charles  and  Elizabeth  would  have  us  to  dine  with 
them  and  a  parcel  of  English  (a  very  unentertaining 
dinner),  but  as  I  had  made  an  excuse  the  day  before  I 
thought  it  not  right  to  make  another,  and  I  knew 
Elizabeth  wished  us  to  be  there  early  in  the  evening,  as 
she  had  said  she  should  be  at  home  till  ten  and  expected 
some  French  visits  which  came  to  the  tune  of  about  half 
a  dozen  people  dropping  in  before  they  went  to  this 
Mme.  d'Escars.  But  by  the  time  they  had  gone 
Lady  Hardwicke  coughed  so  much  and  we  were  both  so 
tired  that  we  resolved  to  postpone  Mme.  d'Escars 
till  another  Sunday  evening,  and  go  quietly  to  bed. 
This  evening  they  (Lady  Hardwicke,  Elizabeth,  &c.) 
are  going  to  Court,  and  I  have  got  the  loge  au  Francais 
for  myself  and  Lady  Colin.  I  have  nothing  else  to  do, 
God  be  thanked.  The  letter  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
to  the  King,  is  only  known  here  through  the  medium  of 
the  English  papers,  and  I,  individually,  have  not  yet 
seen  the  paper  in  which  are  the  extracts.  If  such  a  letter 
exists  it  is  the  dictates  of  all  the  Allied  Powers  of  whom 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  is  only  the  mouth,  as  being 
their  Commander-in-Chief  as  well  as  ours. 


Monday  Night,  II  o'clock,  April  I. 

My  Dearest  Agnes, — I  am  returned  from  the  Play 
so  late  that  I  literally  have  not  had  time  to  read  your 
letter  of  the  28th  quite  through,  before  I  am  obliged  to 
seal  this  for  the  bag,  so  I  can  only  say  one  word  and 
that  must  be  an  injunction  to  you  to  allow  yourself  to 
be  taken  care  of,  that  is  to  say  to  be  kept  quiet  in  your 
own  House,  till  you  get  rid  of  the  symptoms  of  weak- 
ness and  failure  somewhere  that  you  mention.  If  you  do, 
it  will   I  trust  lead  to  nothing  bad ;    if  you  do   not  it 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  349 

certainly  will.  And  now  farewell,  for  I  must  add  no 
more  as  the  letters  must  be  sent  to  the  Ambassador's.  I 
will  answer  yours  and  write  a  few  lines  to  dear  Anne  by 
the  next  post.  As  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world  I  may  in 
vain  attempt  but  I  know  I  never  shall  be  able  to  answer 
their  letters  or  execute  their  commissions,  but  let  them 
suppose  I  am  doing  both  and  don't  worry  yourself  with 
making  apologies.  When  I  come  I  will  do  it  for  myself. 
I  am  sorry  I  can  add  no  more.  Be  sure  and  continue 
letting  me  know  how  you  go  on.  Farewell  and  Heaven 
bless  you.  Whatever  requires  answer  in  your  letter 
you  shall  have  by  next  messenger  on  Thursday.  I  have 
no  time  to  read  over  my  letter,  and  Heaven  knows 
whether  you  can  read  it  at  all. ' 


Maria  Edgeworth2  to  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry 

Edgeworth's  Farm,  April  I,  1816. 

My  Dear  Miss  Berrys, — The  very  polite  and  kind 
attention  you  did  me  the  honour  to  pay  to  a  former  note 
of  introduction  encourages  me,  you  see,  to  encroach 
upon  your  goodness  and  to  venture  to  present  to  you 
another  of  my  brothers — my  eldest  brother,  Lowell 
Edgeworth,  who  has  had  so  large  a  share  of  the  evils  of 
life  that  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  he  should  now  enjoy 
as  much  as  possible  of  its  blessings — good  society.  He 
has  been  twelve  years  a  prisoner  in  France — detained 
by  Bonaparte  from  the  time  of  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  till  the  Allies  entered  Paris — so  that  he  is  a  stranger 
almost  to  his  own  country,  and  till  the  present  moment 
ill  health  has  prevented  him  from  fully  enjoying  the 
contrast  of  society  in  London  and  that  to  which  he 
was  condemned  in  France.  May  I  hope  that  you 
will   do  him  the  honour   and  the  favour  to   let  him 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  102. 

*  Maria  Edgeworth  ( 1767-1849),  novelist,  author  of  Castle  Rackrent,  &c. 


350  BERRY    PAPERS 

spend   one   evening   in   the   delightful  society   of  your 
house  ? 

My  brother  Sneyd  begs  me  to  present  his  grateful 
respects  to  you.  He  much  regrets  that  a  note  and  an 
invitation  to  dinner  you  did  him  the  honor  to  send  him 
did  not  reach  him  while  he  was  in  London.  It  was 
forwarded  to  him  to  Ireland  by  the  post.  He  was  as 
fully  sensible  as  I  am  of  your  goodness.  We  are  all  at 
this  time  happily  engaged  in  reading  a  most  entertaining 
book  in  the  first  page  of  which  is  written  from  A.  and 
M.  Berry.  It  was  a  present  from  the  Miss  Berrys  to  the 
late  Mr.  Malone,1  and  with  all  his  library  has  come  into 
the  possession  of  his  brother,  Sunderlin,2  who  is  our 
neighbour  in  the  country.  His  Lordship  has  had  the 
generosity — and  I  think  it  is  great  generosity — to  trust 
this  precious  book  to  us.  It  is  inter-leaved  and 
furnished  with  prints  of  Mr.  Malcolm^  collection 
of  all  the  persons  mentioned  in  The  Reminiscences. 
What  a  delightful  companion  Lord  Orford  must  have 
been  and  how  much  we  are  obliged  to  those  who  have 
preserved  in  its  full  animation  and  elegance  the  living 
spirit  of  his  conversation.  My  father  and  Mrs.  Edge- 
worth  beg  to  present  their  grateful  respects. — Believe 
me,  my  dear  Miss  Berrys,  your  obliged, 

Maria  Edgeworth.3 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Sunday,  April  7,  1816. 

I  think  I  contrive  to  get  rid  of  my  ills  quicker  than 
you  do  of  yours,  but  then  yours  are  always  out  of  the 

1  Edmund  Malone  (1741-1812),  the  friend  of  Johnson  and  Burke,  and 
the  editor  of  Shakespeare. 

2  Edmund  Malone's  eldest  brother,  Richard  (1738-18 16),  who  was  raised 
to  the  Irish  peerage  as  Lord  Sunderlin  in  1 785. 

3  From  the  original  letter  in  the  collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  351 

way  ills,  and  mine  are  always  such  common  ones,  as 
hardly  to  give  me  credit  for  the  suffering  they  occasion. 
When  I  wrote  to  you  on  Thursday,  I  felt  myself  at  the 
beginning  of  a  violent  cold.  It  came  on  with  Giant 
steps,  and  then  on  Thursday  Evening  I  did  (to  please 
Lord  Hardwicke)  continue  to  make  a  toilette  after  the 
play,  and  go  to  Elizabeth's  great  Soiree  and  talk  away 
while  there  to  the  people  I  knew.  I  was  but  too  happy 
to  get  home  before  Lord  Hardwicke  and  get  to  bed  as 
fast  as  I  could.  The  next  day  (Friday)  I  was  in  that 
sort  of  state  of  dissolution  in  which  a  very  bad  cold  at 
its  worst  makes  one  feel,  and  could  with  very  great 
difficulty  tear  myself  out  of  my  own  room  to  dine  in 
our  salon  in  my  morning  dress  with  Madame  de 
Coigny,  Ward,  Luttrel,  and  Nugent,  whom  I  left  to 
themselves  and  their  own  devices  the  moment  dinner 
was  over.  My  night,  of  course,  was  a  bad  one,  but  I 
somehow  or  other  contrived  to  get  into  a  perspiration 
yesterday  morning,  which  I  managed  by  taking  tea  in 
bed,  remaining  there  till  one  o'clock,  and  when  I  at 
last  got  up,  my  head  was  relieved  from  all  pain  and,  in 
spite  of  the  continuance  of  my  cold,  I  was  so  much 
better  as  to  be  able  to  go  and  dine  at  the  Moreau's  at 
six  o'clock — which  I  suppose  she  would  much  rather 
have  seen  me  die,  than  not  have  done — for  she  had 
made  a  dinner  for  me,  that  is  to  say,  chose  me  to  be 
present  at  one  she  had  made  for  the  Due  de  Richelieu, 
Marechal  Macdonald,  and  seven  or  eight  other  people. 
Her  dinners  are  exactly  like  her  toilettes,  as  near,  as 
exact,  as  nicely  set  out,  and  she  is  just  as  much  or 
rather  more  occupied  with  the  one  as  the  other,  for 
conversation  there  was  none  on  her  part,  but  a 
continual  attention  to  what  was  going  on  and  off 
and  round  the  Table. — I  sat  again  by  my  Duke  and 
was  glad  to  meet  him  and  he  me ;  I  was  glad,  too, 
after,  to  get  a  little  conversation  with  M.  Lenn6,  the 
president   of   the    Chamber   of   Deputes,  and   before   I 


352  BERRY    PAPERS 

returned  home  there  came  in  two  or  three  men  whom 
I  was  glad  to  see,  such  as  Mons.  de  Neuville,  the 
most  violent  ultra-royalist  in  the  Assembly.  In  short, 
in  spite  of  my  cold,  the  Moreau  seemed  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  having  given  me  a  dinner  of  which  I  should 
make  a  good  report,  and  at  parting  hoped  we  should 
meet  much  oftener  than  we  had  done,  for  that  after 
Lord  Hardwicke  She  must  be  the  person  in  Paris  who 
I  liked  the  best,  to  which  I  assented  with  all  the  sincerity 
and  truth  which  distinguishes  and  ennobles  this  country 
in  which  the  speech  was  made  and  answered.  I  re- 
turned straight  home  to  my  Bed  and  am  to-day  snuffling 
and  blowing  my  nose  but  without  any  headache  and 
very  able  to  go  and  see  Athalie  this  evening  and  make 
a  visit  or  two  afterwards. 

While  I  think  of  it  let  me  tell  you,  which  I  am  not 
sure  of  having  done  before,  that  I  have  heard  from 
Fr^geville  and  have  written  to  him,  and  desired  him  to 
answer  my  letter  directly  and  let  me  know  when  I  may 
expect  him  here.  Our  weather  within  these  two  days 
has  become  warm  and  Spring-like,  which  makes  me 
doubly  anxious  to  be  quite  well  and  able  to  undertake 
several  courses  which  have  been  necessarily  put  off  till 
warmer  weather.  That  to  Lady  Warren  is  to  tell 
her  her  Gown  is  done,  and  costs  a  pound  more  than 
the  seven  :  But  that  it  waits  at  the  Mautua-makers  till 
she  tells  me  how  it  is  to  be  sent — for  I  can  in  no  re- 
spect help  her — Lord  knows  I  have  no  idea  how  my 
own  things  are  to  be  conveyed,  and  already  see  that  I 
must  get  a  larger,  or  rather  another,  Trunk,  and  in  the 
meantime  instead  of  sending  you  nothing  must  contrive 
to  slip  over  all  that  I  can  in  the  Messenger's  Bags  while 
I  stay — that  is  to  say  all  that  can  go  in  the  form  of 
a  packet  which  is  neither  Caps,  nor  Hats,  nor  Gowns, 
except  calico  ones. — I  am  delighted  that  you  like  yours 
so  much,  I  will  get  you  another  made  and  sent  as  soon 
as  I  can. — The  larger  flapping  collars  they  don't  wear 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     353 

much  now,  which  is  a  great  improvement.  I  will  get 
one  of  those  that  are  worn  and  send  it  you,  to  see  how 
you  like  it — as  for  Tulle  of  real  thread  Lace,  it  is  all 
nonsense,  our  own  of  Cotton  is  so  much  more  beautiful, 
that  even  their  dealers  in  Lace  own  it,  and  I  am  making 
all  my  frills  and  collars  of  that  I  brought  with  me.  I 
shall  not  forget  Anne's  Commission  of  six  yards  of  Lace, 
but  does  she  mean  blonde  Lace  at  3  francs  a  yard  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  those  I  sent  you  at  10  and  12 
francs  ?  I  don't  think  the  narrower  ones  are  cheap 
in  proportion.  Anne  is  the  only  person  to  whom 
I  mean  to  bring  a  little  present  and  don't  you 
think  silk  for  Gown  will  be  the  best  thing  for  the 
money  ?  Answer  me  this  in  your  next  and  give  me 
a  hint  of  what  sort  of  stuff  or  colour  you  think  she 
would  like. 

Monday  morning. — I  have  really  had  my  cold  as 
much  as  raccourci  as  possible. — To-day  except  being 
a  little  hoarse  and  blowing  my  nose  (which  as  you  are 
not  here  I  don't  mind)  I  am  quite  well  again,  which  I 
assure  you  is  more  than  I  expected.  I  heartily  wish  I 
could  hear  the  same  of  you  !  Mdlle.  George  looked 
Athalie  gloriously  last  night,  and  spoke  most  of  it  with 
great  effect.  The  High  Priest,  too,  spoke  the  whole  part 
as  if  out  of  a  deep  Cavern  and  slower  than  Kemble  in 
his  slowest  moods.  In  short,  I  was  less  enchanted  than 
I  expected  to  be  (for  I  never  saw  Athalie  acted  before). 
But  then  came  "  la  belle  Jernicere,"  the  prettiest,  most 
interesting,  admirably  acted  piece  in  3  Acts  that  can 
be  conceived.  In  short  again — there  is  no  entertain- 
ment like  the  French  Theatre. — From  the  Play  I  went 
with  Lady  Elizabeth  and  Lord  Charles  to  the  Duchesse 
D'Escars  at  the  top  of  the  Tuilleries.  I  had  been  pre- 
vented going  the  other  night. — He  is  Premier  Maitre 
d'Hotel  de  Roi,  and  brother,  I  believe,  to  your  Blind- 
man  Buff  Friend. — They  are  lodged  in  an  apartment  of 
five  or  six  small  low  Rooms  up  the  Lord  knows  how 

z 


354  BERRY    PAPERS 

many  steps,  like  an  Entresol  just  under  the  Roof  of  the 
House. — There  were  all  the  French  people  we  meet  in 
society,  wherever  we  go,  and  a  few  English,  those 
principally  who  go  to  Court.  The  young  French 
Women  are  by  no  means  now  accueillantes  in  their 
manner  to  any  stranger,  specially  to  those  of  my  age. 
They  are  as  much  like  our  own  Jerseys  and  Coopers 
as  possible,  only  without  half  their  beauty  and  look 
of  Women  of  Fashion. — So  that  it  is  never  in  these  sort 
of  large  parties  that  one  makes  any  acquaintances,  nor 
does  one  want  it ;  one  goes  to  see,  and  for  once  or  twice 
it  is  very  entertaining  and  I  was  glad  to  see  the  Interior 
of  the  Tuilleries.  The  great  Theatres  are  shut  this 
(Passion)  week,  but  the  little  ones  open  till  Thursday, 
and  to  some  of  these  which  I  have  not  yet  been  I  hope 
to  get. 

Nothing  but  want  of  time  has  prevented  my  long  ago 
giving  you  what  you  desired,  my  "  prejudiced  [views] " 
about  the  goings  on  of  the  great  House.  I  chose  to  see 
with  my  own  Eyes,  and  it  was  very  long  before  I  had 
any  talk  with  the  Lady  on  the  subject. — From  that 
moment  I  was  convinced  all  will  do  well. — He  has  little 
weaknesses  of  which  I  did  not  suspect  him.  He  makes 
mistakes  about  French  views  and  French  opinions,  of 
which  I  suspected  him  still  less. — She  is  wonderfully 
little  acquainted  with  the  human  heart  and  character 
out  of  politics,  with  which  the  heart,  God  knows  has  too 
little  to  do.  But  he  is  a  very  clever  Man — a  man  who 
without  appearing  so  to  do,  observes  every  thing,  on 
whom,  therefore,  nothing  is  lost.  With  such  a  Man 
you  will  easily  conceive  how  much  such  a  character  as 
Elizabeth  must  gain  ground,  however  defiant  at  first 
about  his  liberty,  his  societies,  his  not  being  geni  by  a 
wife.  He  has  already  found  out  that  his  great  Souetes 
are  another  thing  since  she  presided  at  them,  and  that 
in  all  his  small  Souetes  she  is  reckoned  infinitely  the 
more  agreeable  of  the  two.     In  private  he  treats   her 


MARY   AND   AGNES    BERRY    IN   SOCIETY     355 

with  great  confidence  and  receives  every  mark  of  tender- 
ness which  she  is  well  disposed  to  give  him  with  great 
pleasure,  so  that  I  feel  sure  that  their  menage  will  go  on 
well,  and  end  still  better  whether  what  worries  and 
tracass/es  dear  Lord  Hardwicke  does,  or  does  not,  take 
place.  In  the  mean  time  I  have  been  sufficiently  pro- 
voked at  him,  and  to  his  Wife  that  sort  of  confiding  and 
satisfied  happiness  and  enjoyment  that  they  ought  to 
have  had  in  the  first  months  of  their  marriage.  To  me 
he  has  never  entered  on  the  subject,  and  therefore  I 
don't  think  I  have  any  right  to  begin  with  him,  at  least 
I  cannot  feel  sufficiently  at  ease  so  to  do.  He  has 
certainly  no  sort  of  awkwardness  with  me,  for  he  is 
always  offering  to  go  anywhere  with  me,  and  com- 
plaining that  I  make  no  use  of  him.  This  is  the  real 
true  state  of  the  case,  and  as  I  believe  a  perfectly  un- 
prejudiced  view  of  it.  Show  it  only  to  Aunt  Anne  with 
my  love  and  tell  her  likewise  that  Lady  Hardwicke  has 
quite  justified  herself  in  my  eyes  for  all  that  we  thought 
so  strange  in  her  letters  and  conduct.  Elizabeth  herself 
must  have  suffered  much,  but,  believe  me,  she  will  be, 
nay,  she  is  rewarded. 

In  pursuance  of  my  plan  of  slipping  over  what  I  can 
by  the  Messenger,  I  send  you  herewith  your  Ribbons 
and  likewise  seven  French  yards  of  silk  which  I  have 
had  by  me  some  time.  I  bought  it  for  myself  but  it 
shall  be  for  you  if  you  like  it. — It  is  6  francs  a  yard, 
coming  therefore  to  30  shillings.  I  sent  you  some  time 
ago  other  patterns  of  the  same  sort  and  price.  Say  if 
you  think  something  of  this  sort  would  do  for  Anne. 
— Tell  Mr.  Conetant  that  I  think  Mons.  Laine"  a  very 
sensible  man  and  his  manner  and  clearness  in  resuming 
the  Debates,  and  stating  the  questions  in  the  Chambre 
admirable.  I  want  to  go  there  again  next  week.  And 
now  Farewell,  and  God  bless  you  and  make  you  well 
again.  I  shall  bring  my  Father  a  beautiful  present  of 
a  Velvet  Cap  to  shade  his  Eyes  from  the  light  and  keep 


356  BERRY    PAPERS 

his  head  warm  at  the  same  time.  By  the  bye,  I  believe 
I  am  going  to  bring  you  over  two  Handing  Lamps  for 
the  dinner  table,  which  you  were  always  wanting  and 
which  are  excellent  here  and  I  can  get  them  for  about 
15  or  16  shillings  a  piece  very  pretty.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Monday,  April  8,  18 16. 

Having  just  sealed  up  a  Packet  for  you  addressed  to 
my  Father  (on  the  outside)  as  the  more  probable  person 
to  receive  a  large  packet  of  papers  from  me,  in  which 
you  will  find  a  volume  of  a  letter  addressed  to  yourself 
and  finished  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  I  shall 
only  add  here  an  acknowledgement  of  your  letter  of 
Friday  the  5th  and  Anne's.  But  I  can  think  of  nothing 
but  the  account  you  give  of  yourself,  or  rather  Anne's 
account  of  you,  which  is  always  the  one  on  which 
I  depend ;  that  you  should  now  be  suffering  more 
pain  instead  of  entirely  recovering.  I  must  say  I  do 
not  at  all  like  it,  and  if  after  another  letter  or  two  I 
find  you  are  likely  to  continue  much  longer  in  this 
weak  if  not  suffering  state  I  shall  certainly  pack  up 
my  alls  and  return  to  you  with  or  without  the  first 
opportunity.  It  will  be  the  end  of  this  week  at  soonest 
before  the  to-morrow's  Mail  can  arrive,  and  I  own  I 
shall  wait  it  with  much  impatience. — I  am  quite  sure 
neither  Anne,  nor  her  Brother,  nor  Dr.  Baillie,  consider 
your  case  as  worse  than  they  say,  or  leading  to  anything 
bad,  but  if  it  leads  you  to  a  long  and  tedious  confine- 
ment to  avoid  anything  bad,  it  is  well  that  I  should  return 
and  share  it.  But  I  will  still  endeavour  to  hope  better 
things  and  that  the  end  of  the  week  may  give  me  some 
sort  of  assurance  that  I  may  expect  to  return  to  you  as 
I  left  you  and  bring  with  me  a  friend  whose  society  you 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  109. 


MARY  AND   AGNES   BERRY   IN    SOCIETY     357 

may  be  able  to  enjoy,  and  my  own  stories  to  which  you 
may  be  able  to  listen.  I  have  told  you  that  I  am  myself 
well  again  and  have  escaped  the  headache  that  generally 
accompanies  a  cold  with  me.  I  have  nothing  more  to 
add  till  I  hear  from  you  again,  and  so  God  bless  and 
restore  you.  Thank  dearest  Anne  for  her  account  and 
tell  her  I  rely  on  them.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Saturday,  April  13,  18 16. 

I  could  not  with  any  degree  of  comfort  begin  again 
my  journal  till  I  had  heard  better  accounts  of  you, 
which  I  have  just  now  had  the  comfort  of  receiving  in 
yours,  and  above  all  in  Anne's  letter  of  the  9th.  As  the 
evil  seems  now  to  be  really  past,  I  have  only  to  hope 
that  you  will  (as  far  as  in  you  lies)  as  far  as  what  you 
own  to  be  a  "fussable  fatiguable  nature"  allows  you, 
avoid  contributing  to  its  possible  return,  or  to  that 
tendency  to  inflammation  which  your  constitution  seems 
at  all  times  to  possess. — Anne  gives  a  most  comfortable, 
rational  account  both  of  your  body  and  your  mind — I 
am  only  sorry  the  latter  should  have  any  bothers  on  the 
subject  of  money,  but  one  cannot  expect  to  be  without 
them,  or  to  have  money  in  our  Banker's  hands,  when 
the  whole  English  world  is  without  a  penny.  We  must 
suppose  that  the  payment  of  our  money  lent  must  be 
delayed  a  little,  (perhaps  for  a  month  or  two,  or  even 
a  quarter)  when  all  other  payments  are  so  far  behind 
hand.  The  rent  of  the  house  at  Twickenham  in  the 
meantime  certainly  neither  need,  nor  ought,  to  be  de- 
layed on  any  pretence  whatsoever,  and  you  must  make 
Alderman  Wood's  note  about  calling  for  the  half  year's 
rent  when  due,  which  I  left  either  in  your  hands  or 
Hoper's.     My  half  year's  Income  in  the  Funds  will  like- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  113. 


358  BERRY    PAPERS 

wise  now  be  paid,  and  I  will  write  to  Coutts  to  transfer 
it  to  my  Father's  account  if  necessary.  I  repeat  it  again, 
we  cannot  expect  to  be  the  only  people  not  in  difficulties. 
— I  have  now  drawn  for  a  hundred  pounds  on  my  credit 
here,  of  which,  having  hitherto  paid  all  my  Bills  and 
what  I  have  sent  you,  I  have  less  than  £20  remaining. 
I  shall  certainly  be  obliged  to  draw  for  above  another 
.£50  to  bring  me  home  and  clear  me  here.  But  some  of 
this  I  shall  find  paid  me  back  into  Coutts's  account  like 
Lady  Warren's  Money,  and  part  of  yours.  But  don't 
worry  yourself  about  paying  anymore  money  from  yourself 
into  Coutts's,  because  you  and  I  can  settle  that  matter 
between  ourselves  when  I  return.  I  certainly  shall  not 
grudge  for  myself  the  money  I  have  spent  here,  and  I 
shall  as  certainly  take  care  that  it  does  not  ultimately 
impoverish  anybody  but  myself. 

I  do  not  see  why  you  think  you  are  to  remain  a 
Cabbage  because  the  life  I  have  been  leading  here  is 
not  one  that  I  could  even  return  to  en  famille,  and, 
believe  me,  it  is  the  last  thing  either  you  or  I  should 
ever  regret.  My  tastes  and  pleasures  are  really  and 
luckily  much  more  of  my  own  age  and  situation — altho', 
when  not  affected  with  ill-health,  I  have  still  a  power  of 
general  amusement  which  belongs  to  few.  I  still  repeat 
that  if  my  Father  continues  well,  and  if  I  can  have  a 
Cavalier  to  help  me,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  may  not 
go  abroad  this  Autumn,  with  the  idea  of  merely  resting 
here  for  a  fortnight  in  a  HStel  garni  and  going  on  to 
Geneva  or  en  droiture  to  Marseilles.  I  am  sure  I  should 
like  it  extremely,  provided  you  think,  from  the  report 
that  I  shall  make,  that  you  would  like  the  life  we  should 
lead  established  anywhere  abroad  better  than  the  life 
we  can  lead  established  as  we  are  in  England.  I  have 
sometimes  my  doubts  about  this,  and  sometimes  I  feel 
cerfain  you  would,  and  sometimes  I  feel  certain  you 
would  not.  In  short,  we  must  talk  this  over.  In  the 
meantime  I  would  certainly,  in  looking  for  and  hiring 


MARY   AND   AGNES    BERRY   IN    SOCIETY     359 

a  servant,  advert  to  such  a  one  as  one  must  have  about 
my  Father  if  one  went  abroad — I  mean  a  permanent 
English  servant ;  depending  on  taking  another  wher- 
ever one  went. 

The  account  of  Money  spent  and  received  which  you 
send  me  is  all  much  as  I  expected,  and  I  see  nothing  to 
find  fault  with  one  way  or  the  other,  but  the  times,  which 
delays  the  payment  of  the  Money  we  expected  to  go  on 
with,  which  was  Lord  G.  Pigott's  Interest  and  the  Rent 
of  Twickenham  and  our  own  Money  in  the  Funds ;  this 
was  to  do  for  us  till  June,  when  our  half-year's  annuity 
is  due  from  Scotland,  which  this  year,  clear  of  Income 
Tax,  will  be  £50  better  than  it  was,  and  Mr.  Vermon's 
Interest.  How  all  this  may  be  paid  I  can't  say,  but  I 
will  hope  not  much  worse  than  other  people's  payments. 
Therefore  we  must  submit,  and  make  the  best  of  the 
inconveniences  that  other  people  suffer,  and  the  delays 
which  they  are  obliged  to  make  in  their  payments.  You 
need  fear  no  great  Bill,  that  I  know  of,  coming  into  you 
just  now,  and  if  any  should  (which  I  can't  forsee),  you 
must  just  tell  them  that  our  Income,  like  all  the  rest  of 
the  World's,  is  not  paid,  and  that,  therefore,  they  must 
have  a  little  patience.  I  think  I  have  now  answered  tant 
Men  que  mal,  all  the  business  part  of  your  letter. 

My  journal  this  Passion  Week  will  not  be  very  bril- 
liant. My  cold  has  been  extremely  troublesome,  and,  like 
all  the  colds  here,  very  tedious  in  departing.  On  Tuesday, 
the  day  after  I  last  wrote  to  you,  it  confined  me  again 
to  my  room  all  day  with  a  violent  oppression,  tho'  not 
spasm,  in  my  head.  Quietness  and  barley  water,  how- 
ever, made  me  the  next  day  able  to  keep  an  engagement 
with  Madame  Moreau  to  go  with  her  and  Le  Marechale 
Macdonald  to  see  the  whole  Interior  of  the  Luxembourg 
now  arranged  for  the  House  of  Peers,  as  it  was  before 
occupied  by  Bonaparte's  Senate.  The  whole  of  its  ar- 
rangement and  decoration  is  the  thing  in  best  taste 
that  I  have  seen  in  France.     I  there  saw  too  for  the 


360  BERRY    PAPERS 

first  time  Rubens  Galerie  du  Luxembourg,  which  in- 
finitely exceeded  my  expectation,  and  Le  Sueur's(?)  Life 
of  St.  Bruno,  removed  from  the  former  Chartreuse, 
which  fell  far  short  of  them — the  colouring  of  most  of 
them  is  crude  and  raw,  the  drawing  often  defective  or 
ungraceful,  and  the  composition  which  is  certainly  their 
forte  is  seen  to  better  advantage  in  the  Prints  —  Vernets, 
Ports  de  Mer  de  France  are  likewise  here  collected  in  two 
large  Rooms — they  are  beautiful  furniture  and  pictures, 
and  one  longs  to  have  them  in  a  Drawing  Room. 

Thursday. — We  dined  quietly  at  home  with  only  the 
two  Pepyses.  Spectacles  there  were  none,  and  I  there- 
fore had  the  luxury  of  remaining  one  evening  quietly  at 
home — quite  quietly,  for  Lady  Hardwicke  made  some 
visits  with  Elizabeth,  where  I  had  no  wish  to  accompany 
them.  Friday,  Good  Friday,  was  the  best  and  only  really 
good  day  we  have  had  since  I  have  been  here.  I  went 
with  Madame  Moreau  in  a  smart  English  Landau  to 
Longchamps,  where  all  the  English  received  the  con- 
soling assurance  that  the  worst  Sunday  that  ever  shone 
on  Hyde  Park  produces  twenty  times  more  handsome 
equipages  than  this  one  day  of  Gala  for  all  the  Horses 
and  Carriages  of  Paris.  Longchamps  was  a  thing  of 
dirty  Cabriolets  and  Hackney  coaches,  interspersed  with 
here  and  there  a  clean  Barouche  and  one  or  two 
foreign  coaches  and  four.  Here,  however,  I  was  very 
well  amused  with  the  people,  the  lookers-on,  &c,  and 
remained  till  past  six  o'clock,  when  I  was  set  down  at 
the  Ambassade  to  dine  en  famille  and,  like  the  Scotch 
Laird,  did  "  nae  mair  "  that  day. 

Monday  Morning,  April  1 5. 

To  go  on  with  my  journal.  Saturday  we  again  dined 
at  the  Ambassade  with  14  or  15  people.  In  the  Evening 
there  was  a  sort  of  Soiree  for  the  English  that  were  pu6, 
and  it  was  agreeable  enough.  It  snowed  a  little  that 
evening,   but   yesterday  it  was  a    regular   and   violent 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  361 

snowstorm  here  the  whole  day  after  12  o'clock,  and  I 
believe  the  whole  night ;  everything  this  morning  remained 
covered  with  an  inch  or  two  of  snow  like  the  middle  of 
winter,  and  all  the  tender  green  of  the  shrubs  and  buds 
of  the  trees  bowed  down  with  a  weight  of  snow.  It  has 
now  at  midday  disappeared,  but  a  wind  is  blowing  as 
cold  as  Christmas,  and  it  has  just  been  hailing — never  was 
there  so  late  and  so  bad  a  season  here.  However,  as 
Madame  de  Stael  said,  it  is  the  fashion  not  to  mind  it 
here — and  so  in  the  very  midst  of  it,  at  3  o'clock  yesterday, 
we  went  to  l'Eglise  de  l'Oratoire,  now  given  to  the 
Reformed  Religion — from  the  principal  Minister  of 
which  we  had  obtained  permission  after  his  Service  was 
over  and  the  Communion  administered,  which  was  done 
by  Pepys  and  another  young  clergyman  here,  and  which 
we  all  received  with  above  a  hundred  others,  before  a 
considerable  audience  of  common  French  people  (for, 
of  course,  the  church  was  open),  and  I  could  not  but 
remark  the  serious  attention  and  curiosity  with  which 
they  marked  everything  that  was  going  on.  From  the 
Church  in  the  same  violent  snow  storm  I  returned  at 
very  near  six  to  make  a  hasty  toilette  to  dine  with  the 
Duchesse  de  Vaudement.  There  was  only  Aimee  de 
Coiquy,  myself,  Ward  and  3  other  men,  and  it  was 
very  agreeable.  Late  in  the  evening  I  at  last  made  out 
my  party  with  Lady  Cahir  to  Duchesse  Jablonowski's, 
a  Pole  who  receives  here  every  Sunday.  She  is  an 
Intrigante  &  ce  qu'on  dit,  and  I  believe  mat  ofi  de  la  Cour, 
but  receives  all  sorts  of  people  de  bonne  Compagnie,  and 
I  dare  say  by  what  I  saw  it  might  be  often  very  agreeable. 
I  went  principally  to  see  Madame  Walewska  (I  don't 
spell  the  name  right)  but  Buonaparte's  last  mistress, 
who  has  a  son  by  him.  Well,  after  all  I  had  heard  of 
her  at  Naples,  I  expected  to  find  a  person  who,  if  not  hand- 
some, was  interesting,  was  elegant,  looked  interesting  and 
animating,  or  languishing  and  tender.  Rien  de  tout  cela. 
She  is  a  large  square  woman,  not  very  unlike  the  cut  of 


362  BERRY    PAPERS 

Madame  Constant,  only  laced  up,  and  not  more  than  six 
or  seven  and  twenty,  with  a  singularly  vulgar  flat  counte- 
nance, redeemed  by  no  expression  whatsoever,  and  more 
like  a  good  bouncing  Kitchen-maid  brought  up  in  School 
at  Wimpole  and  promising  to  be  too  fat  for  her  work,  than 
anything  else.  And  this  is  the  interesting  Heroine  that 
went  out  to  see  him  at  Elba,  and  with  whom  he  passed 
a  night  on  the  Mountains  ! — I  never  shall,  I  find,  live 
long  enough  to  overcome  my  surprise  at  the  taste  of  great 
men  en  fait  de  Femmes! — From  Madame  Jablonowski 
I  returned  very  late,  and  am  quite  well  this  morning. 

While  on  the  subject  of  these  parties,  let  me  tell  you 
how  pleased  I  am  to  find  the  real  truth  of  what  foreigners 
have  often  told  us,  that  North  Audley  Street  is  the  thing 
in  London  the  most  like  French  Society.  I  don't  mean 
so  much  our  large  parties  as  our  common  Evenings  at 
Home — only  they  are  generally  much  better,  more  men, 
more  conversation,  and  the  refreshments  more  tidily 
served.  I  shall  no  longer  have  any  scruples  of  being  At 
Home  as  often  as  you  please  and  receiving  anybody 
who  may  have  the  entree  without  any  fear  of  them  finding 
it  dull,  and  when  I  bring  you  over  the  two  nice  lamps 
that  I  propose,  I  assure  you  humble  North  Audley  Street 
may  vie  with  many  Societes  a  la  mode  id. 

Now  don't  let  me  forget  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
had  a  second  letter  from  Fregeville  on  Thursday  last 
enclosing  this  for  you.  He  had  not  then  received  my 
first  letter,  on  which  I  immediately  wrote  him  a  second 
to  the  same  purpose,  which  I  am  certain  was  put  into 
the  post  and  I  trust  will  reach  him,  in  time.  But  the 
post  office  here  is  I  fear  at  present  most  uncertain  from 
the  delays  of  examination,  &c,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
bad  weather  and  roads.  This  said  bad  weather  has 
cruelly  delayed  all  the  drives  into  the  Country  which  I 
counted  on  and  which  they  are  all  ready  for  as  soon  as 
possible,  but  hitherto  they  have  been  quite  wwpossible.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  115. 


MARY   AND   AGNES    BERRY    IN    SOCIETY     363 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Sunday,  April  21,  18 16. 

I  have  used  you  shabbily  this  week,  for  I  have  two 
letters  to  thank  you  for,  and  I  have  not  yet  written  a 
word  to  you,  so  that  I  fear  my  journal  will  be  a  little 
en  raccourci,  for  to-day  I  am  going  to  pray  at  three 
o'clock,  and  to-morrow  morning  I  know  not  how  long 
I  may  be  kept  at  the  Trial  of  our  Englishmen 1 
which  begins  of  course  early.  They  will  be  acquitted 
of  everything  but  extreme  Folly,  from  which  no  tribunal 
on  Earth  can  clear  them.  Bruce  is  to  "deliver  his  own 
defence,  which  will  probably  be  sufficiently  roman- 
esque  to  be  very  entertaining. 

For  this  last  week  I  have  got  rid  of  my  cold  and 
have  continued  sufficiently  well  to  do  a  good  deal  and 
to  enjoy  a  good  deal.  This  has  made  me  idle,  which 
it  ought  never  to  do  with  regard  to  you.  As  to  the 
rest  of  the  world,  I  have  given  up  all  idea  of  writing 
to  anybody.  What  I  much  more  regret  is,  not  finding 
time  to  write  down  half  I  want  to  remember  for  my 
own  entertainment  and  that  of  others. 

Now  for  my  journal — 

Tuesday,  the  16th,  I  was  to  have  dined  with  the 
Moreau  and  gone  to  some  of  the  little  spectacles,  but 
she  was  ill,  which  I  only  knew  the  same  day,  so  I 
dined  delightfully  at  home,  alone,  on  a  sort  of  Luncheon 
dinner,  and  dressed  quietly  and  went  and  met  all  my 
Folks  at  the  Opera,  after  which  we  went  and  drank 
tea  with  Mme.  de  Vaudement.  Wednesday  the  17th, 
I  went  in  Dawson's  cabriolet  all  round  the  Boulevards 
to  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  where  Lady  Hardwicke  and 
Elizabeth  met  us,  and  we  had  a  charming  walk.  For 
the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  according  to  its  present  arrange- 

1  The  trial  of  General  Sir  Robert  Wilson,  Michael  Bruce,  and  Captain 
Hely-Hutchinson.    See  ante,  p.  320. 


364  BERRY    PAPERS 

merits,  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  magnificent,  but 
one  of  the  prettiest,  and  most  enjoyable,  things  you 
ever  saw,  with  all  the  Beasts  and  Birds  living  very 
much  at  their  ease,  in  that  part  of  it  called  the  Mena- 
gerie. In  the  evening  we  went  to  the  Play.  Mdlle. 
Mais  in  the  Coquette  congSe  (vide  my  letter  to  Mrs.  Darner 
for  what  I  think  of  her).  Among  these  young  fine  ladies 
I  find  I  have  the  reputation  of  being  une  femme  de  beau- 
coup  d'espHt,  which  I  shall  certainly  retain  with  them, 
as  we  have  no  conversation  together  that  can  possibly 
detect  my  want  of  it.  The  elder  ones,  whether  they 
take  it  on  their  own  judgement,  or  the  report  of  their 
Daughters  and  Nieces,  certainly  treat  me  and  talk  to 
me  as  if  they  gave  me  credit  for  it. 

But  to  my  Journal.  Thursday,  18th,  we  had  a  dinner 
at  home — Humboldt,  Barthelemy,  Ward  too,  and  in 
the  Evening  went  to  music  at  the  Dsse.  de  Vaude- 
ment  where  (par  parenthese)  I  always  find  my  Aim6e  de 
Coiquy,  whose  face  and  whose  manner  Lady  Hardwicke 
begins  to  like  so  much  that  she  is  going  to  ask  her  to 
dine  here  some  day  with  Ward  and  some  others. 

Friday  19th. — In  the  morning  I  had  an  enormous 
long  walk  in  the  streets  with  Sir  Charles.  We  went 
first  to  Gerard,  the  Painter's,  who  is  a  much  cleverer 
and  more  agreeable  man  than  he  is  a  good  painter. 
Lady  Hardwicke  too  met  us  here,  but  here  we  left 
them  again,  and  continued  walking  into  shops,  where 
there  were  curious  and  beautiful  things,  till  half  past 
six  o'clock,  when  I  dined  in  my  walking  dress,  just 
as  I  returned,  at  the  Hotel  with  no  creature  but  our 
family  party.  In  the  evening  I  was  to  have  made 
two  separate  French  visits,  but  after  sitting  an  hour 
with  the  Moreau,  who  was  becomingly  convalescent, 
I  was  rejoiced  to  find  myself  too  late  for  my  other 
visits,  and  to  get  home  to  Bed. 

To-day,  thank  Heaven,  we  dine  quietly  at  home,  Lady 
Hardwicke  and  I,  and  Elizabeth  with  us,  as  the  men  are 


MARY   AND   AGNES   BERRY   IN    SOCIETY     365 

at  a  Men's  dinner  at  the  Due  de  Richelieu's.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  shall  get  a  bit  of  a  Theatre,  but  afterwards 
I  am  going  again  to  my  Duchesse  Jablonowski's  and 
Lady  Hardwicke  with  me,  not  Elizabeth,  for  these  Poles 
are  all  sujet  a  caution  here  at  present. 

Now,  my  dear  Agnes,  tho'  you  have  never  yet 
mentioned  coming  home  to  me,  nor  I  to  you,  I  have 
not  the  less  thought  of  it,  and  as  soon  as  ever  I  hear 
from  Fregeville,  and  know  when  I  may  expect  him 
in  Paris,  I'  shall  be  able  to  form  some  idea  when  I  shall 
think  of  packing  up  my  alls,  and  returning  to  you.  I 
will  not  say  of  Paris  as  the  Chevalier  de  Boufflers  to 
the  [illegible]  at  Warsaw — u  Hen  heureuse  de  vous  avoir 
vu,  et  de  vous  quitter,"  but  bien  heureuse  to  return  to 
a  comfortable  home,  where  everybody  I  know  wishes 
to  make  me  so — where  I  can  enjoy  the  first  of  all 
blessings,  rational  society  and  quiet,  and  where  I  trust 
my  absence  will  have  made  me  a  more  entertaining 
inmate.  I  think  I  must  hear  from  or  see  Fregeville 
in  a  few  days,  as  my  last  letter  was  by  his  direction 
addressed  to  Montpelier,  and  I  know  that  it  was  put 
into  the  Post.  Tell  my  dearest  Caroline  that  I  wish 
she   could   have    heard    me   on  Thursday   with   Sully, 

and  yesterday  with  the  Duchesse  d' on  the  subject 

of  poor  cat's-paw. — Yesterday  in  an  hour's  conversa- 
tion it  was  a  fair  set  too  of  French  sentiment,  conven- 
ances, and  hard-heartedness,  against  English  truth  of 
feeling,  benevolence,  and  humanity. — St.  George  against 
St.  Denis — and  believe  me,  tho'  I  say  it  that  should  not, 
St.  George  had  fairly  the  advantage,  altho'  fighting  with 
the  disadvantageous  Arms  of  a  language  not  his  own. 

Tuesday  night  late. — I  am  just  returned  home  and 
must  send  my  packets  to-night  for  fear  of  the  Messenger 
going  before  I  get  away  from  the  trial  to-morrow  where 
we  are  to  be  soon  after  eight  o'clock — and  so  Good 
Night  and  God  bless  you.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  121. 


366  BERRY    PAPERS 

Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Monday,  April  22  [1816],  5  o'clock. 

Just  this  moment  returned  from  Wilson's  trial,  I 
find  your  packet  of  the  19th,  Friday.  I  have  not  yet 
had  time  to  read  it  even,  and  I  don't  believe  I  shall  before 
I  am  obliged  to  dispatch  mine,  as  the  Courier  now 
sets  off  at  six  o'clock  instead  of  twelve  at  night.  But 
I  have  opened  my  packet  directed  like  papers  for  my 
Father  to  pop  in.  The  work  you  want  I  had  got  it 
for  the  bottom  of  your  Calico  Gown,  but  can  get 
another.  It  is  the  quantity  for  the  bottom  of  a  petticoat 
in  which  one  buys  them.  For  the  sleeves  you  must  do 
as  you  please  :  this  would  not  do  for  them.  I  would 
not  have  missed  the  trial  on  any  account.  It  is  not 
over,  and  I  am  going  there  again  to-morrow,  which 
is  sufficiently  fatiguing,  for  one  is  obliged  to  be  there 
soon  after  eight  to  get  a  tolerable  place.  But  you  know 
all  trials  entertain  me,  and  this  is  certainly  a  peculiar 
interest.  The  conduct  of  a  French  trial  (when  not  for 
life  and  Death)  is  so  contrary  to  all  our  ideas  of  justice 
as  to  [surprise]  one  that  so  clever  a  people  after  all  their 
Codes  and  all  their  Constitutions  should  not  yet  have 
got  nearer  the  mark.  I  have  no  possible  time  for  details 
just  now,  but  I  confess  that  I  think  our  people  made 
a  very  bad  appearance.  They  were  all  examined  to-day. 
All  spoke  much  too  bad  French  (according  to  my  ideas) 
to  have  attempted  to  speak  in  public.  In  the  midst 
of  my  peroration  my  letters  are  called  for,  so  farewell.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Thursday,  April  25,  18 16. 

I   shall  send  you  but  a  short  line  to-day,  as  this  is 
not  my  post  day,  but  I  have  the  enclosed  to  forward 
1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  124. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  367 

to  you,  and  to  tell  you  that  it  came  enclosed  to  me  in 
a  letter  from  Fregeville  two  days  ago,  who  had  received 
mine  and  assures  me  shall  be  at  Paris  at  the  time  I 
mentioned,  which  was  the  end  of  this  month,  so  that 
I  may  expect  him  every  day.  A  second  letter  which  I 
wrote  to  him  at  Montpelier  would  tell  him  to  let  me 
know  as  soon  as  ever  he  arrives  here  whenever  this 
happens,  and  when  we  have  had  a  talk  together  about 
the  how  and  the  when  I  shall  be  able  to  give  you  some 
idea  when  you  may  expect  us.  I  intended  to  buy  a 
second  hand  Imperial  here,  which  I  am  sure  I  shall  get 
much  cheaper  than  in  England,  which  may  be  useful 
to  us  hereafter,  and  which  is  the  only  possible  way 
in  which  I  can  convey  my  baggage,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  Box  which  I  must  have  by  the  Carrier. 

Well,  thank  Heaven,  the  trial  ended  yesterday, 
without  convicting  me  of  a  headache,  but  it  took  up 
entirely  the  whole  of  the  three  days ;  for  after  being  up 
soon  after  seven  o'clock,  and  in  the  hot  and  crowded 
court  for  between  eight  and  ten  hours  each  day,  I  was 
perfectly  incapable  of  anything  but  eating,  drinking, 
and  going  to  bed  after  my  return  ;  and  it  has  thrown 
me  back  in  all  my  engagements  and  deprived  me  of 
one  or  two  that  I  should  have  liked.  But  I  have  been 
extremely  entertained.  Yesterday  after  the  defence  of 
the  English  prisoners  by  their  Avocat  M.  Dupin,  who 
executed  his  office  admirably,  speaking  with  great 
freedom  and  eloquence  and  the  same  time  avoiding 
everything  that  could  properly  give  offence  (He  was 
one  of  the  Counsel  for  Mardchal  Ney),  both  Sir  Robt. 
Wilson  and  Bruce  made  a  speech,  Wilson  first  and 
very  well,  except  his  abominable  and  extra  bad  pro- 
nunciation. However,  everybody  seemed  to  excuse  that 
as  the  speech  had  considerable  effect,  and,  I  think, 
deserved  it,  for  it  was  manly,  soldier-like,  to  the  point, 
and  temperate  ;  luckily  for  him  nobody  touched  on  the 
really  bad  part  of  his  story,  the  having  obtained  passports 


368  BERRY    PAPERS 

under  a  positively  false  pretence,  and  for  two  non-exist- 
ing persons,  so  that  he  was  not  obliged  to  defend 
himself  on  the  only  indefensible  point  in  English 
eyes.  In  those  of  French  truth  and  probity  it  was 
nothing,  not  thought  worth  adverting  to,  even  by  their 
magistrates ! ! 

Hutchinson  wisely  thought  proper  to  say  nothing. 
Last  came  Bruce  who,  in  fine  flowery  commonplace, 
which  he  too  pronounced  with  a  horrible  accent, 
brought  together  Montesquieu,  La  Fontaine,  Henry  IV, 
le  Chev.  Bayard,  La  revolution  d'Angleterre  de  1688, 
les  Bedouins  du  Desert,  Les  Druses  du  Mont  Libane, 
and  the  romanesque  of  the  adventure  in  which  he  was 
proud  of  having  acted  a  part.  Judge  what  sort  of  a 
farrago  this  must  have  been,  and  the  farrago  of  a  vain, 
weak  mind.  The  young  Avocats  thought  it  very  fine 
(what  they  understood  of  it). — It  was  just  such  fudge  as 
they  would  have  talked  themselves.  The  older  people, 
while  they  admired  Wilson,  said  Bruce  had  the  ton  of 
a  "mauvais  Comedien."  However  he  sat  down  with 
great  self-applause,  and  neither  did  good  nor  harm,  I 
believe,  to  his  cause,  for  the  fact,  as  they  both  owned, 
and  gloried  in  it,  was  undeniable,  and  therefore  some 
punishment  was  absolutely  necessary.  The  jury  did 
not  remain  out  above  an  hour,  and  they  had  to  decide 
on  three  French  persons  implicated  as  well  as  the  three 
English.  The  Court  was  kept  in  good  order  and  no 
applause  or  marks  of  approbation,  very  properly,  allowed. 
It  was  cram  full  of  women,  but  Lady  Glengall,  Lady 
Conyngham,  Mrs.  Crosbie  and  myself  the  only  English 
ones  (of  people  known)  who  attended  constantly.  But  I 
do  not  think,  whatever  lies  may  be  told  of  it,  that  it 
excited  a  very  strong  interest  anywhere,  or  with  any 
people  except  the  personal  friends  of  Lavalette.  I  can 
add  very  little  more  to  you  just  now,  for  I  have  been 
out  all  the  morning  with  Mrs.  Meason  in  the  first  of 
Spring  days.     The  Spring  has   burst   on    us   with   fine 


MARY   AND   AGNES   BERRY   IN    SOCIETY     369 

warm  weather  at  once,  and  during  the  three  days  that 
I  have  been  shut  up  at  this  Trial  it  is  quite  wonderful 
how  every  thing  has  started  into  flower  and  into  leaf 
in  our  Garden  and  every  where  else.  Pour  mon  malheur, 
or  rather  for  my  plague,  just  at  this  moment  there  is 
a  Court  mourning  for  the  Empress  of  Austria,  which 
everybody  is  obliged  to  wear  in  Society  of  an  Evening, 
and  not  having  a  rag  of  black  with  me,  I  am  obliged 
to  buy  a  Gown.  No  harm  in  that  you  will  say  and 
truly,  but  to  get  it  made  and  something  on  my  head 
and  something  on  my  tail,  &c,  nobody  knowing  or 
telling  one  a  word  of  this  mourning  till  the  night  before 
it  was  to  be  put  on,  I  shall  run  the  chance  of  being 
shut  up  this  evening  for  want  of  decent  apparel  or 
borrow  a  Gown  from  Lady  Elizabeth,  which  she  pro- 
poses, but  which  I  do  not  see  the  possibility  of  getting 
on. — However,  once  en  deuil  I  shall  be  quite  happy  and 
never  have  another  thought  about  my  dress.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Sunday,  May  5,  1816. 

I  neither  bounced,  nor  was  the  least  angry  at  the 
beginning  of  your  last  letter  of  the  29th.  According  to 
your  laudable  custom  you  always  believe  and  feel  sure 
of  what  you  least  wish  to  be  true,  and  in  this  instance 
it  does  not  discompose  me,  because  I  hope  I  have  it 
in  my  power  to  disappoint  you,  by  arriving  near  about 
the  time  I  proposed. — That  is  to  say,  if  Fr6geville  makes 
his  appearance  in  the  course  of  this  week  (for  he  is  not 
yet  here),  I  see  nothing  that  will  prevent  my  setting  out 
the  end  of  the  next  week,  that  is  to  say,  about  the 
10th  at  latest.  But  till  he  comes  I  can  neither  make  up 
my  packets,  nor  finally  settle  my  affairs.  I  have  written 
to  him  again  to  Montpelier  to  hasten  his  departure,  if 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  125. 

2  A 


37©  BERRY    PAPERS 

he  is  not  already  on  the  road,  but  hoping  and  believ- 
ing him  to  be  so,  I  have  not  forwarded  your  letter, 
but  keep  it  to  give  him  here.  As  for  his  being  none 
the  better  for  my  introduction  to  Sir  Charles,  you 
are  mistaken  there.  He  has  been  everything  that  is 
civil  and  kind  to  me  in  his  way  since  I  have  been 
here — and  I  take  him  in  it. —  It  is  not  that  that  I 
like  best,  but  I  am  sure  as  there  are  no  political 
reasons  against  Fregeville,  which  makes  everybody 
draw  off  here — that  in  his  way  he  will  be  very  civil 
to  him. — In  short,  fiez  vous  h  moi  for  doing  what  is 
right  and  best  for  our  Friend. 

Did  I  send  you  a  letter  on  Monday  last  ?  I  do  not 
feel  sure. — I  know  I  did  not  write  to  you  on  Thursday 
for  I  was  laid  not  by  the  leg,  but  by  the  head,  the  whole 
day.  However  my  heads  here  just  last  a  whole  day 
without  having  ever  (but  once)  come  to  vomitting,  so 
that  the  next  day  I  am  myself,  or  at  least  capable  of 
service  again. 

Now  for  my  journal  of  last  week. — Monday  we 
dined  en  famille  at  Ambassade,  and  in  the  evening 
Sir  Charles  carried  us  to  the  VariSUs  to  see  the  last 
piece,  and  afterwards  we  joined  Lady  Hardwicke  and 
Elizabeth  at  Lady  Glengall's  where  there  was  an  ex- 
cellent assembly  both  of  French  and  English.  Tuesday 
I  was  for  a  long  time  in  the  Morning  in  the  Library 
of  our  Noel  Comte  Roderer,  who  is  a  most  informed 
and  interesting  Man,  from  the  great  part  he  has  acted 
during  the  whole  of  the  Revolution.  He  and  I  are  quite 
friends,  and  I  go  up  to  his  Library  and  find  him  there 
whenever  I  please,  or  rather  can,  which  is  not  half  so 
often  as  I  wish. 

And  here  arrives  most  opportunely  your  letter  of 
Friday  last.  You  will  see  by  the  beginning  of  this  that 
you  only  did  me  justice  in  supposing  that  I  should  not 
be  discomposed  with  your  former  letter,  still  less  suppose 
that  my  poor  Father's  dream  could  make  any  impression 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     371 

on  your  mind.  The  life  I  have  been  leading,  I  should 
be  very  sorry  to  lead  for  two  months  longer.  Enough 
is  as  good  as  a  feast,  and  of  this  sort  of  feasting  not  only 
is  but  ever  was  to  me.  Had  the  circumstances,  the 
society  and  the  situation  in  which  I  have  found  myself 
here,  occured  to  me  earlier  in  life,  they  would  have  been 
of  great  consequence,  and  material  good  effect  to  me, 
they  only  make  me  feel  every  day  when  I  ought  to  have 
been  while  I  was  younger,  and  when  I  should  have  been 
now.  As  it  is,  I  have  been  much  entertained,  and  shall 
now  welcome  the  quiet  daily  bread  of  Life,  and  the 
home  and  its  little  circle  that  will  give  me  at  once  time, 
and  occasion  to  talk  over  and  digest  all  I  have  seen  and 
heard. 

You  misunderstand  me  about  Sir  Robert  Wilson  and 
the  passport  being  not  mentioned  by  the  French.  I  did 
not  blame  them  but  said  it  was  well  for  him.  Au  reste, 
be  assured  that,  like  the  Duchesse  de  la  Fert6,  il  n'y  a 
que  moi  qui  ai  raison  sur  le  compte  des  Francois,  and 
when  you  know  all  I  have  heard  and  seen  you  will 
think  so. 

I  have  little  to  add  to  what  I  have  already  said  about 
my  return.  I  am  waiting  impatiently  for  Fregeville,  and 
the  moment  he  makes  his  appearance  I  shall  be  ready 
to  set  out  with  him  within  a  week.  In  his  last  letter  to 
me  of  the  14th  April,  he  says  he  means  to  make  a  very 
short  stay  in  Paris  "pour  son  propre  compte"  and  so  I 
suppose  he  will  contrive  to  arrive  only  a  very  few  days 
before  he  supposes  me  ready  to  start ;  for  he  says, 
"  fespere  etre  d  Paris  au  moment  que  vous  m'avez  prti," 
which  was  at  latest  the  middle  of  May.  I  have  written 
again  to  hurry  him. — I  send  dear  Robert  by  this  Courier 
in  the  Ambassador's  Bag  a  long  letter  from  Meason, 
which  I  engaged  him  to  write  on  politics,  promising  to 
get  it  so  conveyed.  But  Meason,  although  a  very 
sensible  man,  is  very  credulous  of  bad  or  strange  news, 
and  is  not  enough  acquainted  with  the  French  character 


372  BERRY    PAPERS 

to  be  able  to  judge,  what  little  truth  he  may  hear.  The 
letters  I  have  had  from  poor  Mrs.  Darner  but  too  truly 
confirm  what  you  tell  me  of  her.  It  is  a  subject  on 
which  my  heart  is  still  so  feelingly  alive,  that  I  never 
think  of  it  without  as  profound,  and  a  much  more  pain- 
ful melancholy  than  I  should  feel  at  the  death  of  an 
ordinary  Friend.  Her  ills  of  every  sort  are  every  day 
increasing  and  are  alas  !  absolutely  without  remedy.  In 
the  midst  of  what  I  feel  myself  I  can  heartily  pity  dear 
Charlotte.  I  have  written  to  her  (Mrs.  Darner)  by  this 
Courier,  but  as  my  letter  was  sealed  before  I  got  here 
to-day,  do  tell  her  that  I  may  not  tear  my  letter  by 
opening  it,  that  I  will  daily  forward  the  enclosures  she 
sends  me.  And  now,  farewell.  A  bad  day  has  given 
me  leisure  to  write,  and  thank  Heaven  I  do  nothing 
to-day  but  dine  en  tete  a  tete  with  Elizabeth,  her  parents 
dining  with  the  Prince  of  Conde,  and  her  husband  at  a 
ministerial  dinner  at  the  Due  de  Richelieu's. — They  are 
all  to  meet  us  at  the  Play  afterwards.  The  Caledons  we 
expect  on  Wednesday,  and  I  have  got  them  lodged  in  a 
pavilion  attenant  to  this  House,  so  that  we  shall  eat  and 
dine  together.  When  I  leave  dear  Lady  Hardwicke  in 
the  hands  of  Catherine  she  cannot  do  better,  although 
she  will  not  yet  for  some  time  be  quite  well,  and  she  is 
aware  of  it  herself.  And  now  once  more  farewell.  You 
shall  hear  from  me  the  moment  Fr^geville  arrives.  God 
bless  you.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Thursday,  May  9,  1816. 

No  Fregeville  arrived  yet,  but  as  I  have  not  heard 
from  him  again,  I  must  suppose  him  on  the  road.  It  is, 
however,  very  inconvenient  to  me  his  not  arriving  a 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  127. 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     373 

moment  before  the  time  I  wish  to  set  out,  because  I 
cannot  make  the  final  arrangements  about  the  packing 
my  things  till  he  comes.  My  heavy  Box  of  Books, 
lamps,  &c.,  which  must  at  all  events  go  by  the  Roulier 
is  already  packed,  and  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  Prince 
Esterhazy,  and  had  a  word  about  its  being  addressed  to 
him,  can  be  dispatched  to  Calais  directly.  But  my 
Hats,  Bonnets,  and  Chiffons,  I  really  am  puzzled 
about,  and  believe  after  all  I  must  send  in  a  small 
deal  case  apart,  for  it  is  no  use  destroying  them  for 
the  price  of  the  carriage.  I  enclose  a  bit  of  your 
Capotte,  which  I  hope  you  will  think  beautiful  tho' 
I  daresay  I  might  have  done  better  for  you,  but  you 
know  I  am  very  stupid  en  fait  de  la  Toilette,  and 
nobody  can  know  the  torment  and  incommodious- 
ness  of  Paris  tradespeople  except  those  who  have 
had  lately  to  deal  with  them. 

As  I  wrote  to  you  on  Monday  last  with  a  packet 
addressed  to  my  Father,  I  must  be  short  with  my  journal 
to-day.  On  that  evening  I  went  to  the  Play,  where  I 
never  in  my  life  was  so  well-entertained.  It  was  the 
Misanthrope  and  La  Suite  d'un  Bal  masque,  Mdlle. 
Mars  in  both  pieces,  and  in  both  so  perfect  that  she 
has  at  last  entirely  made  my  conquest  along  with  that 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  World.  Afterwards  I  went  and 
made  a  visit  to  the  Princess  Serge  Galitzen,  she  that 
has  just  now  been  in  England  for  a  little  while. — She 
is  young,  and  pretty  (in  a  Russian  way)  and  somehow 
or  other  took  violently  to  me  when  I  was  first  introduced 
to  her  at  our  party  here  the  other  night.  Like  the  two 
Ladies  in  the  German  Play,  we  swore  eternal  friendship 
at  our  first  meeting,  and  she  asked  me  to  dine  with  her 
the  next  day  (Tuesday),  which  I  agreed  to,  if  we  did  not 
go  to  Versailles  which  we  did,  and  I  (oh  !  shame  on  me) 
utterly  forgot  my  dinner  with  that  sentimental  friend, 
till  I  was  half-way  there  ! — However  in  the  evening  after 
the  Opera  I  went  to  her,  made  my  excuses,  which  were 


374  BERRY    PAPERS 

well  received  and   I  am  to  dine  with  her  to-morrow. 
She  is  laughed  at  as  being  a   tcte  Stourdie  and  up  in 
Lights  of  Romance  where  Reason  and  Logic  cannot 
follow  her.     But  hitherto   I   really  like  her,  and   I  am 
always  prone  to  pity  and  to  like  those  who  feel,  or  even 
think  they  feel,  more  or  differently,  from  the  everyday 
world.     We  had  a  most  entertaining  day  at  Versailles, 
which  I  had  never  seen  well,  and  almost  forgot ;  luckily 
our  party  consisted  only  of  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwicke, 
Elizabeth,  and  myself.     We  saw  everything  very  com- 
pletely, dined  there,  and  returned  to  tea  here.     I  had 
before  no  idea  of  the  magnificence  of  Versailles,  nor  the 
great  effect  that  it  must  have  had  on  the  Arts  of  its  day. 
The  gardens  are  the  most  magnificent  thing  conceivable 
as  the  appendage  to  such  a  Palace,  and  now,  in  their 
first  and  freshest  verdure  beautiful !      But  if  anything 
were  necessary  to  deter  one  from  the  wish  of  wearing  a 
Crown  it  would  be  the  idea  of  living,  passing  one's  life 
from  morning  to  night,  and  from  night  to  morning  again 
in  the  Gilded  Rooms  of   Versailles !     To   a   spectator, 
however,  how  interesting  the  remembrances  and  scenes 
it  recalls !  from  the  [statue]  of  Madame  de  Mantenon  in 
the  Chapel,  to  the  door  at  which  the  wretched  Marie 
Antoinette   fled    from   the   murderers    already    in    her 
Gilded  Bedchamber  to  that  of  the  King  for  protection. 
But  pray  don't  keep  me  here  talking  about  Versailles, 
when  I  am  going  out  in  a  moment  with  Mrs.  Meason  to 
Perr^guay,  who  have  given  me  a  [few]  francs  too  little 
on  my  last  draft — a  diminution  which  my  friends  can 
ill  support. 

The  weather  is  abominable  again.  We  had  a  fine 
day  for  Versailles,  but  yesterday  and  to-day  it  is  raining 
hard,  and  as  cold  as  March.  The  Caledons  we  expect 
early  to-day  as  a  letter  came  from  them  at  Calais 
yesterday.  I  'told  you  they  were  lodged  in  a  sort  of 
Pavilion  belonging  to  this  House.  My  Room  could  have 
served  them  in  no  respect,  so  that  I  do  not  feel  at  all 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     375 

in  their  way.  But  now  that  Lady  Hardwicke  has  got 
another  Daughter,  I  certainly  can  do  you  more  good, 
or  at  least  am  more  wanted  by  you,  than  her.  And 
therefore,  as  I  have  said  so  often  before,  by  the  middle 
or  end  of  next  week,  if  Fregeville  will  only  arrive,  I 
am  off. 

Ward  is  gone  to  England  to-day  round  by  Rouen. 
I  and  all  my  packets  could  do  nothing  with  him.  He 
dined  with  us  yesterday  with  Aimee  de  Coiquy(?) 
and  our  Comte  Roderer  (a  most  entertaining  person). 
Ward  promised  me  to  call  on  you  and  report  of  me  as 
soon  as  he  got  to  London.  I  send  by  this  Courier  a 
something  which  I  mean  for  myself — my  last  sending 
was  meant  for  Bab,  but  we  can  make  any  change  you 
please.  And  now  farewell,  for  I  will  put  up  my  packet 
before  I  go  out,  and  then  it  will  be  off  my  mind.  We 
dine  at  Barthelemy's  to-day.  Farewell,  and  God  bless 
you,  till  we  meet  in  North  Audley  Street.  Don't  fancy 
by  this  that  I  shall  not  write  again.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Sunday,  May  12,  1816. 

Not  a  word  yet  from  Fregeville,  which  really  begins 
to  worry  me,  as  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  go,  and 
because  I  think  it  is  just  possible  that  he  may  be 
stopped  altogether  by  the  battle  that  (they  say)  is 
going  on  at  Grenoble  and  in  many  different  parts  of 
the  Southern  provinces — but  it  is  impossible  to  know 
a  word  of  truth  on  these  subjects,  by  any  means,  from 
anybody.  I  cannot  myself  believe  there  is  anything 
that  should  impede  his  coming,  and  still  think,  as  I  have 
not  heard  from  him,  that  between  this  and  the  15th  or 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f-  133. 


376  BERRY    PAPERS 

1 6th  I  shall  see  him.  If  by  that  time  I  neither  hear  nor 
see,  I  shall  really  begin  to  think  that  his  letters  as  well 
as  himself  are  stopped,  and  shall  immediately  turn  my 
mind  to  setting  off  by  some  other  means.  Lady  Cahir's 
is  still  open  to  me,  and  she  is  still  most  willing  and  civil 
about  it,  but  she  does  not  set  out  till  the  25th,  and 
going  with  her  will  cost  me  much  more,  because  I  must 
not  only  pay  for  two  horses  as  I  did  in  coming,  but 
hire  a  Cabriolet  for  Emma  and  my  luggage  from  here 
to  Calais  which  will  cost  me  .£4  in  addition.  However, 
I  will  still  hope  that  Fregeville  will  make  his  appear- 
ance, and  then  I  shall  be  ready  to  set  off  on  Saturday 
or  Sunday  next  as  I  promised  you.  If  any  delay  occurs 
it  will  not  be  imputable  to  me.  The  longer  I  stay  at 
Paris  the  longer  I  may  stay,  and  in  some  respects  the 
more  agreeable  it  would  be.  But,  as  I  said  before, 
enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast,  and  I  am  now  only  anxious 
to  return  to  you,  while  I  have  the  sacrifice  to  make  to 
you  of  some  regrets  on  the  part  of  my  friends  here 
at  my  departure,  and  some  interests  and  amusements 
which  I  leave  behind  me.  This  sounds  a  little  like 
a  French  phrase,  but  you  know  me  too  well  to  think 
it  one,  and,  even  putting  you  out  of  the  question,  it 
is  a  clever  thing  to  leave  a  place  with  a  wish  to 
return  to  it.  And  so  \  am  coming  to  you  as  fast  as 
ever  I  can. 

Now  for  my  journal. 

Monday  Morning,  May  1 3. 

Before  I  proceed  on  it  I  must  acknowledge  your 
letter  and  Mrs.  Darner's  of  the  ioth  this  moment  re- 
ceived. I  tremble  at  your  saying  you  have  received  no 
letter  by  the  Courier,  for  I  sent  a  week  ago  eight  yards 
intended  for  Bab,  which  I  hope  and  trust  your  next  letter 
will  say  you  have  got,  as  we  never  feel  quite  sure  of 
what  is  put  into  the  bag  because  I  fear  other  people  are 
far  less   scrupulous  than  ourselves.     My  own   flowers, 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY     377 

many  of  which  have  been  worn,  more  than  fill  up  every 
corner  I  have  to  put  them  in  and  must  be  packed  by 
the  Flower  people  themselves.  Esterhazy  in  the  kindest 
manner  has  allowed  me  to  send  one  Caisse  with  his 
things,  hoping  it  was  not  too  large.  I  dare  hardly  ask 
for  another,  altho'  I  must  put  three  or  four  hats  in  a 
Caisse  by  themselves,  go  as  I  will — I  would  most  will- 
ingly do  anything  for  Lady  Harrowby — tho'  Heaven 
knows  Lady  Susan  wants  no  flowers  to  set  her  off.  I 
have  no  time  now  to  consult  her,  or  I  could  order  the 
Flowers  here,  have  them  packed  by  the  people,  entered 
at  the  Custom  House,  and  coming  over  like  any  other 
goods  that  are  allowed  by  paying  a  duty.  But  I  doubt 
if  this  is  what  she  means.  I  will  see  what  can  be  done, 
and  if  nothing,  assure  her  that  it  shall  not  be  my  fault. 
Still  no  Fregeville  and  no  letter  from  him.  I  really 
begin  to  fancy  both  himself  and  his  letters  are  stopped, 
and  I  am  seriously  thinking  of  making  Lord  Polling- 
ton  my  Squire  back.  He  arrived  with  the  Caledons 
all  safe  and  well  on  Thursday  last,  but  he  only  intend- 
ing to  stay  eight  or  ten  days,  and  he  seems  to  have  no 
great  wish  to  prolong  his  stay — so  that  (faute  de  mieux) 
after  waiting  till  the  18th  to  see  if  Fregeville  arrives, 
Lord  Pollington  and  I  shall  hire  one  of  the  Calais 
Carriages  of  which  there  are  always  plenty  at  Guillagues 
depot  in  Paris,  and  return  together.  In  this  case  I 
think  I  can  set  out  about  this  day  se'nnight.  I  shall  not 
travel  very  fast,  because  as  I  must  pay  the  post  myself 
and  settle  every  thing,  I  may  be  fatigued,  and  may 
catch  a  head-ache  on  the  road,  and  I  would  fain  arrive 
in  good  order  to  you.  But  with  tolerable  luck  and 
tolerable  wind,  we  should  certainly  be  with  you  the 
sixth  day  from  our  leaving  Paris.  A  day  or  two  I  know 
you  will  not  mind  in  our  departure  and  on  our  journey, 
rather  than  that  one  should  be  fatigued  and  hurried 
out  of  one's  life.  My  almost  every  hour  is  already 
engaged  for  nearly  the  whole  of  this  week — supposing 


378  BERRY    PAPERS 

that  I  don't  break  down  running.  But  I  think  I  have 
been  on  the  whole  very  well  for  this  last  month,  altho' 
the  weather  ever  since  Tuesday  last  that  we  were  at 
Versailles,  has  been  uninterruptedly  such  cold,  rain, 
and  absolute  absence  of  sunshine,  that  it  is  more  like 
a  Scotch  than  even  an  English  Spring.  The  cold  is 
really  quite  afflicting,  I  only  wonder  I  keep  so  well  with 
it.  Tell  Mrs.  Darner  I  will  take  care  of  her  enclosure, 
that  to  Princess  Staremburg  is  gone.  I  am  surprised 
Mrs.  Darner  don't  mention  my  letter  to  her  in  which 
I  told  her  of  Leopoldine's  marriage. 

Friday  I  dined  with  my  friend  Psse.  Serge  Galitzen 
with  the  Russian  men — sat  with  her  a  great  part  of  the 
Evening — went  and  made  a  visit  to  Flahiant's  mother  to 
whom  I  had  been  too  long  of  making  a  second  visit, 
and  then  returned  to  my  friend  who  set  me  home. — 
Dear  Elizabeth  and  Sir  Charles  had  kept  a  place  at  the 
Opera  for  me,  but  I  told  Lady  Hardwicke  I  would  not 
go,  as  they  were  already  three  women  in  the  Box.  I 
like  to  make  myself  scarce  sometimes,  which  they  are 
kind  enough  to  complain  of  at  the  embassade  and  Sir 
Charles  crossed  himself  the  last  time  he  saw  me.  Satur- 
day, we  dined  at  home,  and  I  went  in  the  Evening  with 
the  Moreau  to  Mme.  Recamier's,  who,  from  a  professed 
beauty  and  a  rich  Banker's  wife  when  I  was  last  here,  is 
become  poor,  rational,  and  somewhat  in  the  Bel  esprit 
line — the  party  consisted  of  the  Moreau,  myself,  a  quidam 
Lady  in  a  Great  bonnet  whom  I  never  enquired  after — 
your  friend  Mrs.  Paterson,  Jerome's  ex-wife,  and  about 
a  dozen  men — Mme.  R^camier  was  on  a  chaise  tongue 
with  a  migraine,  a  sort  of  remains  of  her  beauty 
character,  I  suppose.  Mrs.  Paterson  is  a  very  pretty 
ordinary-looking  little  person,  who  said  nothing  but  to 
the  men  and  is,  they  say,  bete  comme  un  pot — in  that  the 
party  was  dull  and  I  was  glad  to  leave  it  with  the 
Moreau  for  a  great  Assembly  at  the  Ambassade.  I 
could    not    help   laughing   at    the    Moreau    (like   you 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY   IN  SOCIETY     379 

formerly)  saying  to  me  as  we  were  going  in — Ah  ca, 
ma  chere  vous  n'allez  pas  m'abandonner  tout  a  fait.  I 
laughed,  swore  I  would  not,  and  kept  my  word  like 
a  French  woman.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Agnes  Berry 

Paris,  Thursday,  May  16  [1816]. 

I  will  send  you  a  word — it  can  only  be  a  word  to-day 
— for  I  am  going  civilly  with  old  Augustine  and  the  two 
Bouchents  to  the  Tuilleries  to-day  with  an  order  that 
I  have  to  see  the  King's  Apartments,  which  are  shown 
while  he  is  out  airing.  This  was  the  only  little  attention 
that  I  had  in  my  power,  and  I  proposed  it  this  morning 
to  Augustine,  who  came  to  call  on  me  a  second  time  to 
make  many  enquiries,  all  of  which  I  answered  de  mon 
mieux,  and  I  begged  he  would  have  no  scruple  of  making 
me  of  any  little  use  to  any  of  them  while  I  stay — which 
I  am  sure  I  owe  him.  I  have  already  seen  both  Mrs. 
Bouchents  and  the  Girls.  No  Fr^geville,  nor  no  account 
of  him,  so  that  I  really  begin  to  lose  all  hopes  of  him, 
and  am  arranging  to  set  off  with  Lord  Pollington. 
Lord  Caledon  is  this  day  gone  to  look  at  a  carriage  for 
us — a  return  carriage  to  Calais.  Lord  Pollington  has 
got  a  great  cough,  which  frightens  him,  and  keeps  him 
almost  entirely  at  home  here  and  he  is  so  anxious  to  get 
away  that  you  need  not  fear  his  detaining  me.  I 
promised  in  my  last  to  set  out  the  18th  or  19th,  and  I 
hate  putting  off  departures,  but  I  think  I  must  give 
Fregeville  a  chance  till  the  20th,  which  is  next 
Monday.  If  he  is  not  come  then,  I  shall  say  I  set  out 
Tuesday  and  really  depart  on  Wednesday  the  22nd,  and, 
God  and  the  wind  willing,  I  shall  be  with  you  about  the 
Tuesday  following,   the  28th.     I  have  got  a  nice   light 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727.  f-  135- 


380  BERRY    PAPERS 

French  Imperial  that  will  go  on  any  Carriage  and  cost 
me  only  twenty-three  shillings,  and  have  this  day  had 
my  two  packages  nailed  up,  which  are  going  with  Ester- 
hazy's  baggage.  He  was  so  civil  about  carrying  the 
trimming  for  Lady  Harrowby  that  I  have  done  the  only 
thing  that  was  possible  for  her — ordered  the  Flowers 
for  the  trimming  of  a  Ball  Dress  which  could  not  be 
ready  for  his  baggage,  which  must  be  all  sent  to-morrow. 
But  I  have  sent  two  or  three  hats  of  my  own  with  his 
Things,  and  take  her  trimming  packed  in  a  separate 
Carton  in  my  Imperial.  I  hardly  know  by  her  note  to 
you  if  she  meant  a  Garniture  made  up,  or  the  Flowers 
for  one,  but  the  fact  is  that  except  she  had  the  whole 
Habit  de  Bal,  which  does  not  seem  to  be  what  she  wants, 
she  can  only  have  flowers  ready  to  pose,  and  the  accom- 
panying flowers  for  the  head,  which  I  have  ordered  for 
her,  I  must  trust  to  her  liking.  I  have  no  time  for 
journal  to-day.  We  had  a  great  dinner  of  thirty-five 
people  the  other  day  at  the  Ambassade  for  the  Esterhazys, 
at  which  I  had  a  reconnaissance  with  Prince  Auguste 
d'Aremberg,  Mme.  du  Staremberg's  brother,  who  was 
quite  glad  to  see  me. 

I  went  afterwards  for  a  little  to  the  Opera  with  my 
new  friend  the  Princess  Galitzin,  who  is  the  most  enviable 
being  I  have  met  with  in  the  course  of  my  practice. 
But  I  like  her.  To-day  we  all,  I  mean  the  Hardwickes 
and  Stuarts,  dine  at  the  Moreau's,  a  great  dinner  likewise 
for  the  Esterhazys,  who  depart  on  Saturday,  so  they  will 
be  in  London  before  me.  The  Moreau  has  desired  us 
to  stay  to  some  music  in  the  Evening,  a  thing  seldom  or 
never  done  after  a  French  dinner,  so  that  we  shall 
certainly  have  too  much  of  her.  To-morrow  we  go 
for  all  the  Morning  to  the  Princess  de  Vaudemont's, 
who  {par  parenthese)  is  delighted  with  her  gown.  I 
have  been  interrupted  by  Sir  Charles  coming  to  offer 
to  walk  anywhere  with  me,  but  my  engagement  with 
Augustine  obliged  me  to  refuse  him.     Nothing  can  have 


MARY  AND  AGNES  BERRY  IN  SOCIETY  381 

been  more  obliging  to  me  in  his  way  than  he  has  been 
and  nothing  can  be  going  on  better  than  Elizabeth  and 
he,  and  so  God  bless  you  and  let  me  be  quiet  for  a 
moment.  My  Father's  velvet  cap  is  laying  on  the  table 
before  me  and  looking  beautiful — as  I  hope  soon  to  see 
him  doing  so  in  it. — Farewell.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37727,  f.  139. 


SECTION  VII 

THE  LATER  LIFE  OF  THE  BERRYS  (1817-1852) 

The  Berrys  at  Genoa — Society  in  that  town — The  Duke  of  Devonshire — Lord 
John  Russell — The  letters  of  Lady  Russell — The  letters  of  Lady  Glenbervie 
— The  death  of  Robert  Berry — Mrs.  Damer's  tribute  to  him — The  death  of 
Madame  de  Stael — Lucca  Baths — Professor  Playfair — Lady  Carlisle — 
The  death  of  Princess  Charlotte — Lady  Charlotte  Campbell's  second 
marriage — John  Whishaw — The  publication  of  The  Life  and  Letters  o 
Rachael,  Lady  Russell — The  Countess  of  Albany — Lady  Hardwicke — 
Lord  Colchester — The  Berrys'  movements,  1822-5 — They  move  to 
Curzon  Street — Mary  Berry  begins  to  prepare  her  edition  of  The  Corre- 
spondence of  Horace  Walpole — Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay — The  Comparative 
View  of  Social  Life  in  France  and  England — The  death  of  Mrs.  Damer — 
Lord  Dover — The  Reform  Bill — "  The  Quiet  of  Gunpowder  " — Macaulay 
— Richard  Westmacott,  R.A. — English  art  in  1834 — Charades — The 
Berrys  at  Paris  in  1834 — Harriet,  Lady  Granville — William  Beckford's 
Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal — Buckingham  Palace — The 
Duke  of  Sutherland — The  resignation  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  1835 — Lord 
Melbourne  again  becomes  Prime  Minister — Lord  Jeffrey — Lord  Carlisle 
on  Jesse's  George  Selwyn  and  his  Contemporaries — Sarah  Austin — Madame 
Recamier — The  Duchesse  de  Prastin — Chateaubriand — Stratford  Canning 
— The  state  of  Europe  in  1848 — Kate  Perry — Dean  Milman — Ruskin — 
Last  years — Death  of  Agnes  Berry — Death  of  Mary  Berry — Epitaph. 

MARY  BERRY  arrived  in  London  on  May 
27,  1 81 6,  but  in  the  following  August  she, 
with  her  father  and  sister  Agnes,  set  out 
for  Genoa,  where  they  made  a  long  stay. 
She  loved  the  place,  but  pined  for  the  intellectual  society 
with  which  she  surrounded  herself  in  London.  "  You 
would  understand  the  thirst  one  must  feel  for  some 
more  intellectual  society — for  some  epanchements  de  ccsur 
et  de  I  esprit  with  those  who  are  capable  of  feeling  with 

and   for  one,"  she  wrote  to  Madame  de   Stael.     "  No 

38a 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     383 

such  things  exist  here ;  it  is  the  only  fault  of  an  en- 
chanting place,  which,  if  differently  peopled,  would  be 
an  earthly  paradise.  To  remain  always  in  the  noviciate 
of  society,  with  that  only  one  sad  consolation  that  it 
would  gain  nothing  by  being  better  known ;  to  pass 
one's  life  without  books — for  there  are  none  to  be  found 
here — and  without  conversation — for  it  is  unknown  here 
— is  an  intellectual  fact  which  exhausts  and  weakens  one 
morally,  and  influences  much  and  painfully  my  physical 
well-being."  The  Berrys,  however,  made  the  best  of  a 
bad  job.  "  Lord  Minto  added  that  but  for  your  house, 
or  the  society  you  collected,  Genoa  would  have  been 
unsupportable,"  Professor  Playfair  wrote  to  the  elder 
sister.  "  I  have  often  admired,  as  indeed  all  the  world 
does,  that  power  which,  by  the  above  account,  has  this 
winter  been  exerted  in  making  something  out  of  nothing 
— society  out  of  solitude." 


The  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  February  13,  1817. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — Lord  John  Russell  applied 
to  me  in  the  same  manner  as  to  you  for  permission  to 
publish  several  of  the  Russell  letters,1  in  the  life  which 
he  has  written  of  Lord  Russell.  I  could  not  answer 
him  in  any  other  way  than  by  saying  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  agree  to  it  without  your  approbation,  after 
the  interest  and  trouble  you  have  taken  with  the  letters, 

1  Mary  Berry  had  been  invited  by  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  prepare  for 
press  from  the  originals  in  his  possession  the  letters  of  Rachel  Wriothesley, 
Lady  Russell.  The  work  appeared  in  1819,  under  the  title,  Some  Account  of 
the  Life  of  Rachel  Wriothesley,  Lady  Russell,  followed  by  a  selection  of  the 
letters  from  Lady  Russell  to  her  husband,  Lord  William  Russell,  together  with 
some  miscellaneous  Letters  to  and  from  Lady  Russell. 


384  BERRY    PAPERS 

and  that  I  thought  in  case  of  its  being  found  advisable 
to  make  them  public  it  would  greatly  hurt  their  interest 
to  have  extracted  even  a  part.  You  must  be,  of  course, 
the  best  judge  of  this  in  every  point  of  view,  that  is, 
whether  the  collection  would  bear  losing  so  interesting 
a  part  as  the  affectionate  letters  which  Lord  John  wishes 
to  select,  whether  the  whole  collection  ought  to  be 
published  and  whether  in  that  case  you  would  ever 
undertake  the  plague  of  it.  Pray,  therefore,  answer  us 
as  soon  as  possible.  I  own  that  I  do  not  feel  very 
sanguine  about  Lord  John's  work  :  he  seems  to  be  in 
too  great  a  hurry.  His  friends  are  extremely  anxious, 
however,  that  he  should  be  occupied  by  it  on  his  re- 
tiring from  the  House  of  Commons,1  and  very  urgent 
with  me  not  to  refuse  his  present  request,  as  it  might 
damp  him.  These  are  not  considerations  to  prevent  our 
doing  only  what  we  think  for  the  best  in  a  case  of  so 
much  importance  to  the  memory  of  those  very  distin- 
guished and  very  good  people.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
if  he  takes  any,  he  should  take  all.  They  might  form  a 
second  volume,  to  which  the  Life  would  be  the  first. 
Pray  consider  all  this  well,  my  dear  Miss  Berry.  I  am 
writing  to  you  in  a  room  full  of  people  to  be  in  time 
for  the  foreign  post.  It  is  a  formidable  thing  to  write 
to  anybody  in  Italy,  which  has  made  me  silent  for  so 
long.  I  think  your  friends  here  are  all  going  on  well. 
Lady  Glenbervie's  death  made  a  great  affliction. 

My  two  sisters  are  very  well,  but  fanciful  as  usual. 
They  have  endless  little  colds  and  toothaches,  but  not 
enough  to  affect  their  spirits  or  real  health.  I  cannot 
understand  being  ill  in  such  a  winter  as  this.  It  has 
been  mild  enjoyable  weather  for  more  than  a  month. 
We  have  done  our  best  for  the  amusement  of  the 
Grand  Duke  Nicolas.  As  to  me,  I  am  quite  taken  in 
by  him.     We  became  acquainted  at   Chatsworth,  and 

1  Lord  John  Russell,  owing  to  ill-health,  applied  for  the  Chiltern  Hundreds 
on  March  12,  181 7.     He  re-entered  Parliament  in  the  following  year. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     385 

since  we  came  to  town  I  have  been  almost  constantly 
with  him.  I  like  him  extremely  and  I  think  very  highly 
of  him ;  and,  what  is  more,  he  supplies  to  me  the  place 
of  Clifford,  whom  I  miss  very  much.  This  is  certainly 
an  odd  thing  to  have  to  say  of  a  Czarovitch,  but  so  it 
is,  for  he  puts  himself  down  to  our  English  level,  and 
still,  I  hope,  without  lowering  himself. 

Lady  Caroline  Paget  and  Lord  March's  marriage 
gives  great  satisfaction.  The  Duchess  of  Argyle  and 
Lord  Anglesea  have  kissed  hands  (to  each  other)  upon 
it.  Adieu,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  I  am,  your  affectionate 
friend.  Devonshire.1 


The  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  Mary  Berry 

Bruxelles,  March  23,  1817. 

Your  letter  caught  me  here,  my  dear  Miss  Berry, 
Lord  John  [Russell]  is  still  in  England  and  I  sent  your 
enclosure  to  him  desiring  him  to  write  to  you  in  case  he 
should  wish  to  have  the  papers  which  you  mention  for- 
warded to  him  anywhere  on  the  continent.  He  will,  I 
hope,  be  satisfied  with  Lord  Russell's  letters,  but  there  is 
no  knowing.  We  are  all  going  to  be  so  scattered  about 
Europe  that  it  will  be  difficult  to  communicate  on  this 
subject.  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  much  pleased  with 
your  view  of  what  would  be  best  to  be  done  by  the 
letters,  as  well  as  convinced  that  I  cannot  do  better  than 
entrust  their  appearance  or  non-appearance  to  your 
judgement.  At  the  same  time  it  is  a  little  unpleasant  to 
refuse  Lord  John,  if  he  continues  to  press  on  the 
subject,  but  this  will  not  influence  me  while  I  think  it 
would  be  a  real  disadvantage  to  garble  the  letters. 
Anyhow,  it  will  not,  I  hope,  alter  your  occupation, 
which  is  also,  while  you  are  so  well,  an  amusement,  and 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  132, 

2  B 


386  BERRY    PAPERS 

by  the  time  we  meet  again,  everything  may  be  arranged 
with  Lord  John,  who  cannot  be  in  such  a  great  hurry  to 
publish,  if  he  is  going  abroad  directly. 

I  arrived  here  two  days  ago  from  the  Russian  head- 
quarters at  Maubenge,  where  I  had  been  extremely  well 
amused.  There  was  a  magnificent  review  of  15,000 
men  and  a  sham  battle  in  which  the  manoeuvres  of  the 
Cosaques  and  the  attack  and  defence  of  a  ravine  were 
most  curious.  Avoronzow,  the  General,  is  a  most 
delightful  person  :  nothing  could  be  more  hospitable 
and  kind  than  his  treatment  of  us,  and  it  was  very 
striking  to  find  that  Russian  colony  in  France,  the 
officers  leading  their  own  life,  and  the  meals  and  hours 
so  different  from  any  others.  They  are  lucky  in  having 
a  very  nice  society  of  women  des  environs  de  Maubenge, 
who  have  made  great  progress  in  the  northern  acquire- 
ments and  have  learnt  the  national  dances  in  great 
perfection.  The  Mazurka  is  remarkably  gay  and 
pretty. 

I  left  England  with  the  Grand  Duke  [Nicholas]. 
We  are  not  going  to  travel  together,  as  he  goes  much 
faster  than  would  suit  me,  but  we  are  to  meet  at 
Weimar  and  then  at  Berlin,  and  I  think  of  then  going 
on  to  St.  Petersburg  to  be  present  at  his  marriage.  It 
is  a  very  pleasant  way  of  seeing  these  courts,  and  I 
continue  to  like  him  so  much  that  I  should  have  been 
very  sorry  not  to  have  seen  more  of  him.  The  Court 
here  is  none  of  the  gayest,  but  the  Prince  of  Orange 
seems  perfectly  happy.  The  Grand  Duchess  is  not  yet 
visible  :  she  recovered  slowly  from  her  accouchement,  but 
I  am  to  see  her  before  I  go.  The  Duchess  of  Saxe 
Weimar  seems  to  be  the  most  popular  of  the  Imperial 
family  :  her  brother  raves  about  her.  The  Kinnairds 
are  the  only  English  fit  to  be  seen  here  :  the  Belgian 
Ladies  are  the  most  hideous  I  ever  beheld. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Miss  Berry.  Pray  write  to  me : 
you  will  judge  best  how  to  direct  and  send.     I  expect  to 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     387 

be  at  Petersburg  all  July,  and  I  have  just  heard  with 
great  pleasure  that  at  the  time  we  had  settled  to  be  at 
Moscow,  the  Emperor  means  to  establish  his  court 
there,   which   will  be  a   very  interesting  thing   to  see. 

Ever  yours  most  sincerely  and  affectionately, 

D. 

I  shall  not  leave  Berlin  till  near  the  end  of  April.1 

At  Genoa  Robert  Berry  was  taken  ill,  and  died  on 
May  18,  1817.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  at 
Carignano.  Mrs.  Damer,  on  hearing  the  news,  said  of 
him,  °  He  had  a  kind,  cheerful,  and  guileless  heart,  and 
I  shall  always  remember  him  with  gratitude,"  and  he 
was  sincerely  lamented  by  his  daughters.  "You  will 
already  know  that  we  have  lost  that  good  father  to 
whom  you  sent  your  kind  remembrance  ! "  Mary  Berry 
wrote  to  Madame  de  Stael.2  "  His  pure  and  guileless 
soul  has  quitted  a  world  in  which  he  had  met  with 
nothing  but  difficulties  and  injustice.  His  death  leaves 
us  without  a  duty  to  fulfil  towards  the  living  generation  ; 
nor  have  we  any  tie  towards  that  which  is  to  come." 
The  death  of  Robert  Berry  materially  reduced  the  family 
income,  for  the  annuity  of  .£1000  a  year  settled  on  him 
by  his  brother  was  not  continued  to  the  daughters, 
whose  means  henceforth  were  limited  to  about  £700  a 
year. 

T.  N.  Fazakerley  to  Mary  Berry 

Lucca  Baths,  August  13,  18 17. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — I  left  Genoa  with  the  fairest 
prospects,   but   they   deserted   me   when    we   were    off 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  126. 

1  Madame  de  Stael  died  at  Paris  on  July  14,  18 17. 


388  BERRY    PAPERS 

Chiavari,  and  I  did  not  reach  Lerici  till  the  next  morning. 
However,  when  I  Iook'd  at  the  scorched  mountains  which 
I  must  have  passed  on  horseback,  I  did  not  regret  even 
a  calm  and  twenty-four  hours'  imprisonment  among  the 
perfumes  of  a  felucca,  and  the  screams  of  its  helpless 
navigators.  I  reached  Massa  the  same  day  that  I  landed, 
and  in  time  to  go  to  the  Quarries,  which  in  themselves 
are  paltry  excavations,  and  interesting  only  from  their 
names  :  the  scenery  about  them  is  wild,  and  would  be 
worth  going  to  see  if  one  hadn't  seen,  and  wasn't  doomed 
to  see,  such  quantities  of  the  same  kind.  If  you,  when 
you  come  this  way,  have  a  mind  to  go  there,  you  should 
make  the  postmaster  at  Lavenza  send  you  that  way  to 
Massa  :  it  is  not  much  out  of  the  way.  I  proposed  this, 
but  they  set  up  so  loud  a  squall  about  difficulties  and 
additional  horses  that  I  gave  way.  Had  the  weather 
been  a  little  cooler  I  might  have  had  fortitude  to  insist. 
I  twaddled  away  nearly  a  whole  day  at  Lucca,  made 
acquaintance  with  Passi  the  translator  of  Milton,  who 
seemed  an  agreeable  man,  for  he  made  me  a  present  of 
his  book,  and,  what  was  more  essential,  went  to  a  party 
in  the  evening,  and  was  introduced  to  a  very  pleasant 
Signora  Tsebiliani,  who  has  a  house  here  in  which  I 
have  hired  some  tolerably  comfortable  rooms.  The 
Signora,  whether  fortunately  or  otherwise,  remains  at 
Lucca. 

This  place  is  in  the  midst  of  mountains  covered  with 
chestnuts  and  vineyards  and  little  patches  of  ground 
cultivated  with  the  care  and  niceness  of  a  garden.  It 
certainly  is  very  beautiful.  I  know  not  a  soul,  but  in 
my  walks  I  hear  all  languages,  and  they  say  there  are  at 
least  three  hundred  bathers,  to  which  number  I  have 
added  myself  to-day.  What  can  I  say  more  ?  I  have  told 
you  everything  I  know  about  the  place,  the  journey  and 
myself.  But  no — I  quite  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  had 
a  letter  from  the  Mother  of  an  Italian  named  Bindor, 
whom  you  may  have  seen  in  England.     He  had  written 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     389 

before  to  say  that  I  was  coming,  and  it  seems  that  Lady 
Charlotte  Campbell  must  have  told  him  too  of  her  in- 
tention, which  he  probably  communicated  at  the  same 
time,  for  when  I  went  into  the  room,  after  the  first  com- 
pliments, the  Lady  exclaim'd  "  Ma  dov'  e  la  Signora  ?  " 
"  What  Signora  ?  "  said  I,  «  Ma  la  Signora  Charlotte  chi 
deve  venire  con  te."  It  was  in  vain  that  I  protested 
perfect  ignorance  of  all  Charlottes,  to  save  time.  The 
question  was  renewed  in  fifty  shapes,  and  at  last  I  have 
resolv'd  it  into  Lady  Charlotte,  from  whom,  by  common 
report,  I  derive  so  much  honor.  I  have  this  morning 
got  a  letter  from  Lady  Gordon  dated  Bordeaux, 
July  24, — horribly  fagged,  but  in  extasy  at  her  escape. 
Pray  let  me  hear  something  of  your  plans.  Write  to 
me  "presso  il  Sigre.  Francesco  Petri  in  Lucca."  Re- 
member me  very  kindly  to  your  sister.  Lay  me  at  the 
feet  of  all  your  admirers  at  Genoa,  and  believe  me,  dear 
Miss  Berry, — Most  truly  yours, 

T.  N.  Fazakerley.1 


John  Playfair  to  Mary  Berry 

Geneva,  August  20,  1817. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — On  my  arrival  here  I  learnt 
from  Lady  Minto  that  you  had  been  ill  of  a  fever,  and 
on  recovering  from  it  had  felt  yourself  much  better  than 
you  had  been  for  some  time.  This  has  since  been  con- 
firmed to  me  by  Mr.  Dundas,  who  is  lately  arrived  from 
a  long  expedition  on  foot  to  the  high  Alps.  It  gives  me 
great  pleasure  to  hear  of  this  amendment  in  your  health, 
which  I  trust  is  likely  to  continue,  and  indeed  has  been 
purchased  at  a  great  expence  as  the  remedy  (the  Fever) 
was  certainly  a  severe  one  and  not  a  little  dangerous. 
How  fortunate  that  Dundas  was  with  you  ! 

I   wrote  you  a  short  letter  from  Turin,  and  a  very 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  {.  138. 


390  BERRY    PAPERS 

long  one  from  Milan,  but  have  been  in  doubt  as  to  your 
having  received  either,  till  I  learnt  from  Dundas  that 
you  had  at  least  received  one  of  them.  In  one  of  these 
letters — I  do  not  know  which — I  requested  you  to  write 
me  to  Venice,  and  I  left  word  there  to  forward  any  letters 
that  might  come  to  Geneva.  I  have  never  heard,  how- 
ever, at  all,  and  was  uneasy  from  the  accounts  I  had  of 
the  unhealthy  state  of  Genoa,  till  I  received  Lady  Minto's 
information.  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  the  uneasy 
and  irritable  state  of  your  nerves  of  which  you  com- 
plained when  I  saw  you  was  really  the  effect  of  the 
feverish  and  inflamatory  disorder  that  was  then  coming 
on,  and  that  you  had  much  more  occasion  for  a  Physi- 
cian of  the  Body  than  of  the  Mind,  in  which  last  capa- 
city I  have  had  the  presumption  to  act.  I  hope  my 
prescriptions  are  quite  unnecessary,  that  they  lay  down 
no  rules  but  such  as  you  are  naturally  inclined  to 
follow,  and  that  you  will  as  much  as  possible  endeavour 
to  forget  the  occasion  on  which  they  were  offered. 

By  what  I  have  learnt  from  Lady  Minto  your  inten- 
tion of  going  to  Rome  for  the  winter  continues.  I  hope 
you  will  be  joined  by  Lady  Charlotte,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  you  will  find  your  residence  delightful. 
Since  we  left  Genoa,  we  have  been  first  to  the  east 
and  then  to  the  west  and  north.  I  have  been  highly 
delighted  and  an  excursion  of  a  fortnight  to  the  high 
Alps  which  we  made  from  Lucerne  and  luckily  in  the 
present  weather  carried  me  into  scenes  of  the  Great, 
Sublime  and  Terrible  that  I  never  expected  to  have 
realised.  We  set  out  for  Lyons  to-morrow,  and  after 
one  short  excursion  to  the  extinguished  volcanoes  of 
Auvergne,  we  proceed  direct  to  Paris.  If  we  can  stay 
there  a  week  or  two  it  will  be  the  utmost,  and  after  all 
that  I  have  seen  of  the  Great  and  Beautiful,  I  shall  look 
on  the  white  Cliffs  of  Dover  with  additional  delight. 

I  shall  be  most  happy  to  hear  from  Miss  Agnes  or 
you.     My  direction  is  now  to  Edinburgh,  where  I  shall 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     391 

be  fixed  immoveably  for  a  long  time.  In  London  I  will 
not  forget  to  wait  on  Miss  Turner.  Remember  me, 
I  beseech  you,  to  Miss  Agnes  (to  whom  I  will  write  from 
London)  and  to  Viniani.  To  him,  when  I  have  delivered 
his  Papers,  I  will  also  write. 

Poor  Madame  de  Stael. — I  have  seen  Auguste.  They 
are  all  well.  They  have  much,  I  fear,  to  suffer  from  the 
spurious  and  illiberal  publications  to  which  their  Mother's 
celebrity  will  give  rise. — Yours  affectionately. 

J- P-1 

Mary  and  Agnes  Berry  had  gone  abroad  in  the 
summer  of  18 17,  and  in  September  were  at  Florence. 
They  were  again  at  Genoa  in  April  18 18,  and  visited 
several  other  cities,  reaching  Paris  in  July,  and  returning 
to  London  in  August. 

"  Miss  Berry  is  at  Genoa,"  Harriet,  Lady  Granville, 
wrote  to  Lady  Georgiana  Morpeth,  June  1817.  ''She 
has  had  a  violent  quarrel  with  William  Hill.  She  com- 
plained of  his  rudeness,  and,  upon  it  being  reported  to 
him,  he  said,  'Lord  bless  the  woman,  what  would  she 
have?  I  am  sure  I'm  very  ready  to  have  her  to  dinner!' 
Upon  hearing  this  she  stormed.  '  Mr.  William  Hill 
have  me  to  dinner,  ready  to  have  me  ! '  The  Genoese 
States  rung  with  her  larum."  2 


Georgiana  Dorothy,  Countess  of  Carlisle,  to  Mary  Berry 

Castle  Howard,  November  23  and  24,  1817. 

My  dearest  Miss  Berry, — I  am  sure  you  have  been 
shocked  at  the  number  of  shocking  events  that  have 
succeeded  each  other  so  rapidly  here,  and  particularly 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  140. 

*  Letters  of  Harriet,  Countess  Granville,  i.  124. 


392  BERRY    PAPERS 

with  that  of  Princess  Charlotte's  death,1  which  shews 
one  such  a  sudden  reverse  from  every  worldly  prosperity. 
I  believe  no  event  ever  made  a  greater  sensation  or  was 
more  generally  mourned.  I  hear  it  was  Baillie's  opinion 
after  the  examination  that  she  would  not  have  lived  long, 
and  that  she  would  probably  have  died  of  a  dropsy  ;  that 
it  did  not  seem  as  if  her  death  was  caused  by  exhaustion, 
as  she  sat  up  unsupported  a  few  minutes  before  it  and 
yet  was  without  any  fictitious  stimulus  of  fever,  but  that 
the  spasms  which  came  on  in  her  throat  choaked  her. 
What  was  the  immediate  cause  of  them  is  not  known. 
They  say  Prince  Leopold's  behaviour  has  been  quite 
perfect,  that,  tho'  his  grief  and  anguish  have  seemed  rather 
to  increase  than  diminish,  he  has  shown  great  firmness 
and  resignation  and  that  his  considerate  kindness 
towards  everybody  about  him  has  never  varied.  He 
sometimes  looks  as  if  he  could  not  bear  to  see  Claremont 
again,  and  at  other  times  as  if  he  never  should  leave  it,  and 
his  greatest  comfort  seemed  to  be  in  sitting  by  the  side 
of  her  coffin  and  in  praying,  and  the  person  he  likes  best 
to  have  with  him  is  Dr.  Short,  with  whom  he  can  talk 
of  the  Princess. 

Of  course  the  succession  is  much  talked  of,  and  there 
are  reports  that  the  Prince  will  try  to  obtain  a  divorce. 
The  Duchess  of  Cumberland  is  with  child,  which  delights 
the  Duke  very  much.  I  have  sent  you  these  particulars 
which  I  thought  might  be  interesting  to  you. 

The  other  events  to  which  I  alluded  were  the  deaths 
of  Mrs.  Henry  Cavendish  and  Lady  Albermarle.  The 
former  had,  I  believe,  certainly  the  same  complaint 
of  which  her  Father  died,  fullness  about  the  heart,  and 
Lady  Albermarle's   was   an   advanced   miscarriage.      I 

1  Princess  Charlotte  Augusta  (born  1796)  was  the  only  child  of  George, 
Prince  of  Wales,  by  his  wife,  Princess  Caroline  of  Brunswick.  She  married 
on  May  2,  18 16,  Prince  Leopold  of  Saxe-Coburg,  and  died,  after  giving  birth 
to  a  still-born  child,  on  November  5,  1817.  Sir  Richard  Croft,  Bart.  (1762- 
1818),  was  the  accoucheur,  and  so  much  blame  was  laid  on  his  shoulders,  that 
shortly  after  the  unhappy  erent  he  shot  himself. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     393 

suppose  she  had  been  dreadfully  affected  by  the  shocking 
death  of  her  son. 

My  Brother  said  he  could  not  stay  at  Paris  after  such 
melancholy  events,  and  was  anxious  to  be  with  Henry 
Cavendish,  who  is  very  much  afflicted.  I  hear  that  my 
Brother  looks  remarkably  well — thinner,  but  healthier 
and  better  for  it,  and  that  his  account  of  his  travels  is  very 
amusing.  I  hope  to  see  him  and  to  hear  it  as  we  are 
going  to  meet  him  the  end  of  this  month  at  Chatsworth, 

and  afterwards  we  shall  go  to 

We  have  had  the  Cholmeleys  here,  and  he  enquired  a 
great  deal  about  you  and  told  me  that  he  heard  you 
intend  to  be  in  England  next  summer.  Pray  tell  me 
what  your  plans  are  ;  give  my  kind  love  to  your  Sister 
and  believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Berry. — Ever  affection- 
ately yours, 

Georgiana  Dorothy.1 


John  Playfair  to  Mary  Berry 

Burntisland  Links,  Augusts,  1818. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — It  seems  to  be  a  matter 
agreed  on  between  us  that  we  shall  never  make  any 
apologies,  and,  on  my  part  at  least,  that  I  shall  always 
stand  in  need  of  them.  Conformably  to  this  arrange- 
ment, I  go  on  to  write  as  if  I  had  received  Miss  Agnes's 
excellent  letter  from  Florence  and  Genoa  only  a  few 
weeks  instead  of  a  few  months  since.  My  last  news 
of  you  was  from  Robert,2  in  whose  near  neighbourhood 
you  may  observe  I  have  at  present  the  happiness  to 
reside.  He  told  me  you  were  at  Paris,  quite  in  the 
gay  and  busy  world,  but  preparing,  as  I  was  very 
glad  to  learn,  to  return  soon  to  England  and  to  take 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  142. 

2  Presumably  the  Berrys'  cousin,  Robert  Ferguson,  of  Raith. 


394  BERRY    PAPERS 

up  your  abode  again  in  North  Audley  Street  and  for 
the  winter.  I  hope  you  will  do  so  with  an  improve- 
ment in  health,  and  an  increased  power,  from  having 
escaped  two  winters,  of  resisting  the  endless  variations 
of  our  unfortunate  climate.  I  need  not  say  to  you 
that  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  be  on  your 
guard  perhaps  more  against  the  dissipation  of  society 
than  against  all  the  rude  blasts  and  thick  fogs  of 
a  Northern  winter.  But  why  should  I  presume  to 
admonish  a  person  who  knows  all  this  much  better 
than  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do  ? 

I  am  passing  the  summer  in  this  charming  retreat 
quite  away  from  bustle  and  hurry,  and  have  had  the 
satisfaction  of  hearing  the  noise  of  a  General  Election 
all  round  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder,  without 
feeling  the  slightest  agitation  or  disquiet.  (By  the  way, 
we  have  got  a  new  Parliament.  They  say  it  is  to  be 
better  than  the  last.  God  knows  it  cannot  easily  be 
worse  !)  I  am  very  busy  —  studiis  florentem  ignobilis 
oti — quite  retired  so  that  I  have  only  once  been  at 
Raith  :  occupied  with  a  sketch  of  the  History  of  Natural 
Philosophy  for  the  century  just  past.  I  will  send  you 
a  copy  when  finished,  but  that  will  not  be  for  some 
time. 

All  goes  on  well  at  Raith  :  when  I  saw  it  the 
Craufords  were  there,  the  society  less  numerous  and 
more  pleasant  than  I  used  to  find  it. 

I  am  afraid  that  at  Florence  the  circumstance  of 
Lady  Charlotte's  marriage x  which  has  given  so  much 
disgust  to  her  Friends,  must  have  considerably  diminished 
your  enjoyment.  After  all,  it  is  an  action  on  her  part 
more  unwise  than  wrong,  and  I  think  ought  not  to 
be  visited  with  the  continuance  of  indignation  and  re- 
proach.    It  brings  her  down  a  step  below  the  heroic 

1  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell  (see  ante,  p.  294),  married  secondly,  on 
March  17,  18 18,  the  Rev.  Edward  John  Berry,  sometime  Rector  of  Litchfield, 
Hampshire. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     395 

level  to  which  her  conduct  and  her  beauty  (for  this 
last  had  its  full  share  in  fixing  our  opinions)  had  raised 
her  in  the  estimation  of  the  world,  but  she  still  remains 
at  a  height  much  above  the  common  run  of  Men  and 
Women  even  of  her  own  rank. 

I  will  write  to  your  sister  very  soon.  I  was  charmed 
with  her  letter  :  there  is  one  sentence  in  it,  above  all, 
that  I  never  can  forget.  I  am  only  sorry  it  connects 
itself  with  a  feeling  of  bad  health  and  of  such  conse- 
quences as  I  hope  nothwithstanding  her  anticipations 
are  still  very  remote.  It  is  a  sentence  worthy  of  Seneca 
or  Antoninus,  but  I  have  not  room  to  transcribe  it. 

I  hope  on  coming  to  England  you  will  write. 
I  shall  continue  here  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  longer, 
but  do  not  go,  as  you  usually  do,  to  Edinburgh. 

I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  Yours  with  the  most 
sincere  affection  and  esteem, 

John  Playfair.1 


The  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  Mary  Berry 

October  30,  18 18. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — I  leave  London  on  Monday 
next,  the  2nd,  for  France.  You  will,  I  hope,  be  in  town 
before  that  day.  In  case  you  should  not,  here  is  what  I 
have  to  say  about  the  letters. 

I  wish  to  put  them  entirely  into  your  hands,  leaving 
to  you  as  well  the  decision  of  the  form  in  which  they 
shall  appear,  as  the  conclusion  that  they  are  what  will 
interest  the  public  and  prevent  your  feeling  any  regret 
afterwards  at  having  brought  them  forward.  Taking 
them  independent  of  the  powerful  assistance  and  the 
great  interest  your  notes  may  create,  I  must  own  that  I 
have  some  fears  as  to  their  success  with  those  who  have 
not   family   reasons    for  taking  pleasure  in    them,   or 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  144. 


396  BERRY    PAPERS 

sufficient  enthusiasm  about  Lady  Russell,  which  would 
have  the  same  effect. 

I  have  not  read  Lady  Sunderland's  letters,  but  you 
have  told  me  that  they  will  not  be  the  least  entertaining 
part  of  the  whole.  And  now  in  a  word  the  object  of 
this  letter  is  to  give  you  a  total  and  entire  responsibility 
for  the  whole  business,  if  you  are  willing  to  take  it, 
relying  upon  your  own  judgement  not  to  produce 
anything  which  the  world  or  the  Duke  of  Bedford's 
family  might  blame  me  for  making  public. — Ever  yours 
most  sincerely  and  affectionately, 

Devonshire.1 


John  Whishaw  to  Mary  Berry 

Lincoln's  Inn,  April  2,  1819. 

Dear  Madam, — I  return  the  specimen  of  Lady 
Russell's  Letters,2  which  are  curious  and  interesting. 
The  only  fear  is  lest  they  should  be  too  exclusively 
domestic,  but  this  will  depend  in  a  considerable  degree 
upon  the  quantity  published.  It  happens  very  luckily 
that  they  are  well  garnished  with  proper  names,  which 
add  a  great  interest  to  the  work.  Your  notes  are  very 
judicious  and  useful,  and  indeed  quite  necessary. 

The  nature  of  the  letters  makes  it  the  more  requisite 
that  you  should  be  careful  not  to  make  too  large 
quotations  in  the  memoir  from  the  letters  formerly 
published. — Yours  truly, 

J.  Whishaw.3 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  148. 

2  "  Mr.  Wishaw  leaves  to-morrow  for  Florence.  I  showed  him  a  sketch  of 
the  beginning  for  The  Life  of  Lady  Russell,  which  he  much  approved  of,  and 
we  talked  a  great  deal  on  the  subject" — Mary  Berry,  Journals,  August  30, 
1817. 

3  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  151. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     397 

The  Comtesse  d' Albany  to  Mary  Berry 

Florence,  le  ii,  ybre,  18 19. 

J'ai  toujours  attendu  mon  aimable  demoiselle  l'arrivee 
de  votre  nectar  Ecossais  pour  vous  en  remercier,  mais 
il  est  toujours  en  mer — ainsi  je  ne  veux  pas  differer  de 
vous  dire  combien  je  suis  reconnaissante  de  votre  bonne 
intention  que  j'espere  cependant  se  realisera,  et  que  je 
boirai  de  votre  sant£  avec  le  jus  du  houblon  et  avec 
d'autant  plus  de  plaisir  que  je  ne  bois  jamais  de  celui 
de  la  grappe. 

Je  serai  bien  charm£  de  vous  revoir  et  de  vous  remer- 
cier de  vive  voix.  On  nous  annonce  beaucoup  de  vos 
compatriotes,  et  ce  qui  me  fait  grand  plaisir  Lady  Charle- 
mont  avec  sa  sceur  et  sa  mere.  Ce  sont  des  connois- 
sances  de  25  ans  et  ce  sont  celles  que  je  pr^fere.  Cest 
pour  cela  aussi  que  vous  m'etes  plus  chere  car  il  y  encore 
plus  longtemps  que  je  vous  aime.  Veuillez  bien  me 
rapeller  a  Mme.  votre  sceur,  et  conserver  (sic)  moi 
toujours  votre  interet,  et  compter  a  jamais  sur  mon 
tendre  attachement.  Je  vous  embrasse  de  tout  mon 
cceur  et  je  suis  votre  tres  deVouee. 

Louise  de  Stolberg, 

Comtesse  d'Albany.1 


Mary  Berry2  to  The  Countess  of  Hardwicke 

Monday,  September  25,  1820. 

My  dearest  Friend, — Agnes  has  really  so  completely 
anticipated  everything  that  is  to  be  said  that  I  find  myself 
left  with  nothing  but  to  repeat  "  write  to  us,  and  love  us." 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 

*  Mary  and  Agnes  Berry  went  abroad  again  in  August  18 19,  and  remained 
at  Paris  until  May,  when  they  paid  a  short  visit  to  Italy.  They  did  not 
return  to  London  until  August  1821. 


398  BERRY    PAPERS 

Elizabeth's  *  letter  was  really  of  the  greatest  comfort  to 
us.  Although  Lady  Burghersh  had  before  assured  us 
by  her  letters  that  his  illness  was  really  momentary,  it 
nevertheless  completely  distracted  my  attention  from  la 
chose  publique  and  any  chose  PLUS  publique  than  the  Queen 
I  think  can  hardly  be  imagined !  I  doubly  rejoice  in 
never  having  fallen  in  her  way  abroad,  and  now  being 
out  [of]  her  way  at  home.  I  have  been  long  of  the 
opinion  of  those  who  think  she  will  bolt.  And  in  my 
opinion  it  is  by  far  the  best  way  the  thing  can  end. 
What  do  those  Ministers  not  deserve,  whose  folly,  or 
whose  baseness  reduced  the  Country  to  such  a  disgrace- 
ful situation  !  ! 

Florence  at  this  season  of  the  year  is  beautiful  and 
enjoyable  in  every  respect.  The  thorough  baking  I  have 
had  during  this  most  uncommonly  hot  summer  makes 
me  now  so  sensible  to  cold  that  in  a  Bed  Room  to 
the  North  I  could  willingly  have  a  fire  night  and  morn- 
ing. I  have  just  now  escaped  with  a  very  slight  touch 
from  my  fortnight's  attack  of  headach,  which  makes  me 
very  cock-a-hoop.  To-morrow's  post  will,  I  hope,  bring 
us  intelligence,  if  there  is  any  chance  of  the  odious  trial 
being  over ;  time  enough  to  allow  Lord  Guildford 
and  Lady  Cleav.  to  find  us  at  home.  I  hope  to  be 
settled  there  by  the  first  week  of  November.  If  either 
the  Climate,  or  the  Times  should  essentially  disagree 
with  us,  we  can  retreat  upon  Florence,  which  I  think  is 
the  last  part  of  Italy  likely  to  be  politically  troubled. 
We  are  very  comfortably  lodged  here  in  the  great  Hotel, 
which  for  the  time  of  our  stay  is,  on  the  whole,  both 
cheaper  and  much  less  trouble  than  setting  up  a  House, 
and  the  view  from  our  windows  is  perfectly  delightful. 
I  hope  Agnes's  teeth  are  very  near  being  set  all  right 
with  much  less  trouble  than  either  she  or  I  expected, 
and  then  I  think  she  will  much  enjoy  herself  here.  That 
is  to-day  as  much  as  her  nature  allows  of,  which  is  not 

1  Lady  Elizabeth  Stuart 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     399 

one  pleased  and  occupied  with  as  great  trifles  as  mine, — 
a  nature  for  which  I  thank  God  every  day  of  my  life  as 
I  grow  older. 

I  keep  quiet  all  the  mornings,  which  is  the  only  way  in 
which  my  weakness  allows  me  to  be  alive  to  Society  at 
dinner  or  in  the  evening.  People  often  won't  understand 
this,  but  you,  I  am  sure,  do  ;  altho'  you  too  often  used  to 
allow  yourself  to  be  run  down  before  evening,  and  many 
a  fine  plan  and  excellent  resolution  I  have  seen  it  turn 
to  "the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision,"  and  leave  not  "a 
wrack"  but  yourself  behind.  When  I  come  to  quoting 
and  to  mending  Shakespeare,  the  sooner  I  conclude  the 
better.     So  farewell  and  Heaven  bless  you. 

Berenice.1 


Lord  Colchester  (Charles  Abbot)  to  Mary  Berry 

Nice,  January  7,  1822. 

"The  Berrys  are  now  at  Wimpole" — a  Christmas 
reflexion  coupled  with  names  of  Person  and  Place 
which  makes  it  impossible  to  forget  that  a  Letter  is 
owing,  and  that  by  writing  it  without  delay,  I  may  send 
some  account  of  ourselves  before  your  party  is  broken 
up,  and  that  more  than  my  correspondent  will  take 
some  interest  in  knowing  something  about  us.  Long 
before  your  Letter  from  Raith,  we  had  heard  with  con- 
cern of  your  sudden  return  to  Paris,  after  your  departure 
from  it  in  the  Summer ;  and  when  told  that  you  were 
set  out  again,  I  concluded  the  Paradise  of  Scotland 
would  soon  attract  you.  Fifeshire  I  have  always  ad- 
mired, and  indeed  I  am  a  very  good  Caledonian  at 
heart,  without  need  of  referring  to  my  head,  which 
would  not  disprove  the  propriety  of  my  choice.  I  do 
not  know  whether  you  saw  in  your  way  homewards 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  163. 


400  BERRY    PAPERS 

through  Edinburgh  my  Co-guardian  if  the  young  Baronet 
whom  she  has  carried  there  by  dint  of  her  half-authority 
and  whole-determination.  My  part  is  only  to  hope,  as 
I  sincerely  do,  that  it  will  all  end  well ;  but  time  was 
when  men  were  supposed — some  at  least — to  be  the 
best  judges  of  such  matters.  Osborne  writes  to  me 
gaily,  and  talks  of  his  occupations  very  rationally.  What 
is  next  to  be  done  I  shall  be  told  in  due  time. 

My  love  of  Scotland  is  such  that  I  have  no  doubt 
of  making  it  one  of  my  first  Summer  excursions  from 
here  into  that  part  of  the  Island  where  happily  all 
antiquities  as  well  as  the  Hills  are  covered  with  dark 
clouds,  and  one  may  travel  trusting  to  the  evidence  of 
one's  senses.  Having  once  visited  every  part  in  detail, 
my  chief  pleasure  would  be  to  compare  the  present  state 
with  that  of  forty  years  ago.  Ossian  was  then  authentic, 
but  nous  avons  change  tout  cela.  England,  however,  will 
first  be  a  subject  of  examination  and  its  dramatis  persona 
must  be  looked  at,  and  how  far  they,  as  well  as  I,  are 
altered  during  my  three  years'  absence.  Old  friends  with 
new  faces,  &c.  &c. 

You  know  that  from  Orbors  we  travelled  down  the 
Loire,  and  crossed  by  Poitiers  and  Angouleme  to  Bor- 
deaux and  the  Pyranees.  I  remain  very  much  of 
opinion  with  a  young  Oxonian  who  looked  carefully  all 
the  way  from  Calais  to  Bayonne — some  800  miles — 
if  par  chance  la  Belle  France  lay  in  that  direction,  but 
could  not  find  it.  Some  few  points  were  interesting, 
and  some  spots  handsome.  We  were  glad  to  see  Lord 
Bolingbrooke's  residence  during  his  exile  at  La  Source 
and  the  Duke  de  Bordeaux's  massive,  fantastic,  and 
abominable  Chateau  de  Chambord ;  also  Chanteloup, 
where  M.  le  Comte  de  Chaptal  (suppleant  for  the  Due 
de  Richelieu)  goes  on  manufacturing  Beetroot  Sugar, 
which  you  really  may  have  at  a  price  somewhat 
dearer  than  West  India  Sugar  if  you  prefer  having  it 
also  not  quite  so  good.     Les  Ormes,  the  Country  Seat 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     401 

of  M.  d'Argenson,  is  also  cried  up.  It  lies  south  of 
Tours,  and  so  far  as  rooms  ill-proportioned  and  ill  put 
together,  with  a  labyrinth  of  dirty  passages,  and  a 
splendid  staircase  can  make  a  good  house,  it  may  do. 
The  garden  side  might  be  pretty,  but  it  is  not  made  so. 
Distance  from  English  to  French  practice  in  Country 
Houses  and  Landscape-gardening  about  two  centuries. 
The  Bridge  at  Bordeaux  pretends  to  rival  Waterloo ; 
the  river  is  larger  and  deeper  and  the  masonry  magni- 
ficent, but  I  do  not  prefer  it.  The  Theatre  at  Bordeaux 
I  do  prefer  to  all  others  I  have  ever  seen  for  external 
grandeur  and  stateliness  :  the  inside  is  inferior  to  many. 
Talk  of  mountains — visit  the  Pyrenees.  Even  after  the 
Alps  they  are  wonderful,  but  they  have  characteristic 
differences.  We  were  between  six  and  seven  weeks 
residing  in  or  rambling  about  them. 

From  Toulouse  to  Nimes,  and  the  Rhone.  More  of 
grey  Cevennes  to  be  seen  than  of  any  other  object. 
Pont  du  Gard — see  and  never  look  at  another  aqueduct. 
If  you  miss  Vaucluse  there  is  no  harm  done.  If  you  do 
not  go  to  Aries  much  good  is  done,  for  it  does  not  repay 
the  fatigue  of  a  horrible  journey.  But  at  S.  R6my,  near 
Tarascon,  you  may  see  an  Arch  and  a  Mausoleum, 
which,  with  the  Maison  Carrie  at  Ntmes,  may  save  you 
the  trouble  of  going  again  to  Italy  to  see  such  things. 

The  Mistral,  Marseilles,  Toulon,  and  Fr£jus  com- 
pleted our  journey  to  this  place.  And  now  I  must  be 
brief.  Uninterrupted  bright,  still  and  warm  skies  from 
9  October  to  1  of  December — then  torrents  of  rain — and 
stormy  seas — Elysium  not  yet  returned.  Of  English 
our  chief  society  are  the  Leitrims — Montagus — Fieldings 
— Mildmays — Fazerkerley — J.  W.  Ward — and  2  Tighes. 
Fazerkerley's  match  with  Eleanor  Montague  is  just 
declared. 

Remember  us  both  most  kindly  to  Lord  and  Lady 
Hardwicke.  If  we  could  step  over  for  a  day,  you  would 
have  us  at  your  fireside. 

2  c 


402  BERRY    PAPERS 

As  you  will  be  thinking  of  Paris  in  a  few  weeks,  pray 
think  of  us  as  soon  as  you  get  there,  and  write  as  soon 
as  you  are  settled  there,  that  we  may  know  how  to 
inquire  for  you  upon  our  arrival  there,  which  will  be 
by  the  middle  of  April. 

Lady  Colchester  says  all  kind  things  to  you  and 
Agnes.  I  have  no  room  to  say  much  on  that  score  for 
myself — but  that  I  believe  I  shall  always  continue  to  be 
most  truly  yours, 

C.1 


In  March  1822  the  Berrys  again  went  abroad,  visiting 
Paris  and  Italy,  and  they  remained  on  the  continent  until 
August  of  the  following  year.  In  the  elder  sister's  Journal 
for  1824  occur  some  interesting  passages. 

"  February  23. — Left  North  Audley  Street  for  ever, 
after  a  residence  of  more  than  thirty  years,  to  go  to 
Petersham ;  fortunately,  I  was  too  much  occupied  to 
think  much  of  this  adieu,  and  indeed  I  leave  it  without 
regret. 

"February  27. — Went  to  our  new  home,  No.  8,  in 
Curzon  Street.  We  are  delighted  with  the  house,  though, 
as  it  snowed  all  the  morning  and  rained  the  rest  of  the 
day,  the  beauty  of  the  situation  was  lost. 

"March  24. — I  occupied  myself  in  arranging  Lord 
Orford's  letters,  which  I  have  done  in  chronological 
order  in  four  portfolios." 

During  this  year  and  the  next,  the  Berrys  held  their 
salon  at  No.  8,  Curzon  Street,  and  their  visitors  were  as 
frequent  as  ever.  Frequently,  however,  they  were  away 
from  London,  paying  visits  to  Chatsworth,  Bramhall, 
Capesthorne,  Raith,  and  other  country  seats. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  166. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     403 


Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay  to  Mary  Berry 

1826. 
I  used  to  think  with  Gay  that — 

"  Friendship,  like  Love,  is  but  a  name, 
Unless  to  one  we  stint  the  flame." 

That  is  to  say,  I  would  allow  my  Friend  to  love  some 
others  exceedingly  well,  provided  /  held  a  rank  pre- 
eminent over  all  the  rest.  But  I  have  found  a  Friend 
who,  I  am  fully  persuaded,  loves  me  with  all  the 
warmth,  tenderness  and  sincerity  that  my  most  exalted 
ideas  of  Friendship  ever  taught  me  to  expect  and 
require,  and  yet  this  Friend,  I  am  aware,  loves  four 
others,  at  least  as  well  as  she  does  me. 

There  are  some  inexhaustibly  affectionate  hearts,  the 
more  you  draw  upon  them,  the  more  ready  you  will  find 
payment.  When  I  said  some,  I  don't  know  that  there  is 
more  than  one  of  these  hearts,  and  that  is  Berrina's,  who, 
having  many  Friends  to  whom  she  is  warmly  attached, 
has  five  who,  I  think,  are  upon  the  first  rank,  her  affec- 
tion for  each  of  these  differing  rather  in  manner  than  in 
degree.  Agnes,  her  only  sister,  and  nearly  of  the  same 
age  with  herself,  I  ought  perhaps  to  place  in  a  rank 
above  the  other  four,  but  the  sentiment  we  feel  for  a 
sister  that  we  love  is  so  different  from  all  other  friend- 
ships that  none  can  interfere  with  or  rival  it.  Agnes  is 
a  part  of  herself,  and  Agnes's  good  qualities  give  her  the 
same  pride  and  satisfaction  and  her  faults  the  same 
degree  of  impatience  and  mortification  that  she  feels 
from  her  own.  This  affection  knew  no  beginning  nor 
(though  many  things  may  ruffle  and  discompose  it)  can 
it  ever  know  an  end. 

The  heart  that  can  love  a  sister  as  she  loves  Agnes, 
could  never  stop  there  :  it  must  choose  and  be  chosen. 


404  BERRY    PAPERS 

Mrs.  Damer,  her  first  Friend,  inspired  her  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  and  devoted  affection  and  admiration  that 
can  be  felt  in  Friendship,  but  Mrs.  Damer,  in  fact  many 
years  older  than  Berrina,  is  now  in  point  of  mind  at 
least  forty  years  more  aged,  and  Berrina,  who  not  only 
still  retains  all  the  vigour  of  intellect,  but  also  all  the  fire 
and  warmth  of  youth,  requires  in  addition  a  Friend 
more  nearly  of  her  own  age,  whose  occupations,  pursuits, 
amusements,  and  views  of  the  world  are  more  like  her 
own  ;  one  in  whom  she  can  find  a  companion  to  her 
taste,  and  a  most  trusty  and  faithful  confidant ;  one 
who,  altho'  of  an  understanding  inferior  to  her  own,  may 
yet  have  sense  enough  to  be  of  use  in  matters  "  where 
two  heads  are  better  than  one," — and  such  a  Friend,  I 
would  fain  hope,  she  finds  in  the  devoted  affection  of 
Charlotte. 

But  neither  Sister,  Dowager  Friend,  nor  Friend  for 
present  use,  can  entirely  suffice  Berrina's  enormous 
appetite  for  objects  to  love.  She  requires  the  interest 
arising  from  affection  for  those  much  younger  than 
herself,  to  whom  she  may  be  of  use,  and  for  whose 
future  success  in  life  she  may  feel  that  interest  she  no 
longer  feels  for  her  own,  or  for  her  other  Friends,  to 
whom  nothing  now  can  happen  except  death  !  Her 
two  adopted  daughters,  Car  and  Harriet,  fill  these  places 
in  her  heart,  and  are  loved  according  to  their  very 
different  characters.  Car,  her  eldest  daughter,  by  the 
purity,  originality  and  freshness  of  her  mind,  her  genius, 
the  romantic  tenderness  of  her  heart,  and  the  sweetness 
of  her  temper,  affords  Berrina  all  the  delight  that  such 
a  character  can  give  to  one  of  her  feelings.  Car's  situa- 
tion is  a  happy  one,  because  it  suits  her  character. 
Berrina  has  therefore  no  cause  for  anxiety  on  her 
account,  except  what  the  delicate  state  of  her  health 
may  give.  This  Daughter  is  a  source  of  unmixed  satis- 
faction to  her. 

Harriet,  her  youngest  Daughter,  "tho'  last  not  least 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     405 

in  love,"  is  by  some  people  perhaps  supposed  to  be  the 
most  beloved  of  all,  because  she  seems  to  occupy  more 
constantly  Berrina's  time  and  thoughts,  but  this  I  con- 
ceive to  be  from  the  same  cause  that  makes  a  sickly 
child  generally  appear  to  be  its  Mother's  favorite— it 
requires  her  more  constant  attention.  No  reasonable 
being  ever  loved  another  the  better  on  account  of  their 
faults  or  their  infirmities.  Berrina  loves  Harriet  for 
her  noble  qualities,  her  truth,  her  generosity,  her 
superior  understanding,  her  good  nature,  and  above 
all,  she  is  touched  by  her  warm  and  ardent  Friendship. 
The  difficulties  of  Harriet's  situation,  resulting  from  the 
faults  in  the  characters  of  those  with  whom  she  is 
connected,  and  still  more  perhaps  from  the  faults  in 
her  own  character,  her  bad  education,  her  violent  and 
uncontrolled  temper,  and  some  early  prejudices  un- 
worthy of  her  excellent  understanding,  make  her  an 
object  of  constant  anxiety  to  Berrina,  who  must 
naturally  feel  warmly  interested  for  a  noble  creature,  who 
loves  her  tenderly,  and  to  whom  she  feels  she  is  the  only 
person  who  can  be  of  essential  service,  from  the  influence 
she  has  over  her  heart  and  understanding.  This  anxiety 
is  often  very  painful  to  Berrina,  but  if  she  succeeds  in 
making  Harriet  more  right,  and  more  happy,  it  will 
reward  her  for  it  all ;  if  not,  she  will  have  done  her 
duty. 

This  being  my  confession  of  faith  respecting  Berrina's 
heart,  and  knowing  that  all  my  happiness  depends  upon 
my  holding  my  place  in  it,  and  that  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  any  other  was  positively  better  loved,  how  shall 
I  conduct  myself,  in  order  to  keep  my  own  snug,  separate 
corner?  I  cannot  claim  that  peculiar,  sacred,  tender 
sentiment  that  belongs  only  to  first  Friendship  as  to  first 
love  !  Still  less  can  I  expect  to  excite  that  lively  interest 
felt  for  those  much  younger  than  herself,  the  colour  of 
whose  life  may  be  changing  every  day.  But  when  in 
good  humour,  and  when  in  tolerably  even  spirits,  I  may 


4o6  BERRY    PAPERS 

be  a  companion  that  interests  and  amuses  her,  and  when 
entirely  divested  of  all  those  whims  and  jealousies  un- 
worthy of  my  head  and  heart,  I  may  be  the  person  to 
whom  she  can  with  the  greatest  comfort  and  confidence 
talk  over  all  that  interests  her — her  pursuits  and  occupa- 
tions, and  the  pleasures  and  pains  that  she  experiences 
from  all  her  other  affections. 

This  is  what  I  hope  to  be,  as  long  as  I  live,  and  retain 
my  reason.1 


Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay  to  Mary  Berry 

12  Charlotte  Street,  Portland  Place, 
'  Friday,  April  2$,  1828. 

Though  I  said  that  I  would  not  answer  the  King's 
Speech,  like  Mr.  Hope,  yet  I  must  write  to  tell  you  that 
your  Book2  is  quite  new  and  perfectly  delightful  to  me. 
I  always  thought  it  would  be  a  very  creditable  Work, 
but  I  had  no  idea  that  I  should  have  derived  so  much 
amusement  from  it.  I  imagine  that  having  hitherto 
either  read  it  spitefully  to  detect  faults,  or  when  I  had 
rather  have  been  talking,  or  talked  to,  by  the  Authoress, 
prevented  my  really  enjoying  the  entertaining  informa- 
tion and  the  acute  and  just  reasoning  upon  facts  and 
persons  sufficiently  known  to  be  interesting,  and  yet  not 
enough  so  to  be  commonplace.  In  short,  it  exactly 
suits  the  extent  of  my  reading  and  reasoning  powers, 
and  I  hope  and  believe  that  it  may  also  suit  those  whose 
information  and  abilities  may  be  far  superior  to  mine. 
Everybody  has  asked  me,  since  I  came  to  Town  "  when 
Miss  Berry's  book  is  to  be  published  ?  "  never  having 
seen   it  advertised !     I   cannot    think    what    Longman 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  168. 

*  A  Comparative  View  of  the  Social  Life  of  England  and  France  from  the 
Restoration  of  Charles  the  Second  to  the  French  Revolution. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     407 

means  by  this.  If  it  is  to  spite  you,  it  is  an  expensive 
pleasure  that  he  indulges  himself  with.  However,  I 
have  sent  them  all  to  their  Booksellers  for  it. 

By  my  note  to  Agnes,  you  will  know  that  I  have  got 
a  very  comfortable  Lodging  just  by  my  Sister.  I  have 
settled  to  remain  in  my  present  abode  till  this  day  sen'- 
night,  that  I  may  see  you  after  you  come  to  town,  and 
then  known  more  about  when  our  great  Go  is  to  take 
place.  My  sister  goes  with  me  to  Blackheath,  and  it 
will  suit  the  Legges  perfectly  well  to  receive  us  at  that 
time.  We  all  dined  yesterday  at  Harewood  House  to 
meet  the  Portmans,  who  both  of  them  look  the  better 
for  matrimony.  They  are  a  very  pretty  looking  and 
particularly  gentlemanlike  couple.  To-day  I  am  going 
to  dine  with  Harriet  Williams,  and  to-morrow  my  Sister 
and  I  are  going  to  the  Opera  with  Lady  Frances  Lascelles, 
and  Monday  I  am  to  go  to  a  party  at  Mrs.  Davenport's 
and  a  great  Assembly  at  Harewood  House,  which  con- 
sidering that  I  am  by  way  of  being  incog,  and  entirely 
quiet,  will  be  enough,  but  not  near  so  much  as  you  are 
doing  in  your  "  Juan  Fernandez  Retreat."  I  have  just 
called  upon  Lady  C.  Bury,  who  I  found  under  the 
infliction  of  a  visit  from  Lord  Dillon,  with  Colburn 
waiting,  so  I  could  not  get  much  talk  with  her.  She 
seems  over  head  and  ears  in  Belles  Lettres,  and  Royalty, 
Cookery,  Bazaars  and  Dress,  but  she  talks  of  driving 
down  to  you  next  Monday,  if  possible. 

I  have  got  An  Autumn  upon  the  Rhine  and  A  Guide 
along  the  Rhine,  leaving  the  map  to  Mr.  Stanley.  Farewell, 
dearest  Berrina  ;  love  to  Agnes  and  Anne,— Your  own 

Cha. 

I  went  to  visit  myself  yesterday,  and  admired  my  own 
House  much  more  than  I  admired  my  own  person,  when 
I  saw  myself  without  prejudice  in  Mathew  Montague's 
Glass  Door.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  172. 


4o8  BERRY    PAPERS 

While  the  Berrys  were  abroad  with  Lady  Charlotte 
Lindsay  in  1828  they  received  the  news  of  the  death  of 
their  old  friend,  Mrs.  Damer,  who  had  passed  away  on 
May  28,  aged  seventy-nine.  Though  their  friendship  had 
not  waned,  the  frequent  and  prolonged  visits  of  the 
Berrys  to  the  Continent  and  the  increasing  ill-health  of 
Mrs.  Damer  had  for  some  years  made  their  meetings  rare, 
but,  as  Lady  Theresa  Lewis  has  stated,  the  loss  was 
bitterly  felt  and  tenderly  deplored.  To  follow  in  detail 
the  movements  of  the  sisters  is  unnecessary,  but  it  may 
be  mentioned  that  they  were  frequently  at  Paris.  "  The 
Berrys  and  Lady  Charlotte  [Lindsay]  are  come,  and  very 
eloquent,  but  I  have  not  seen  them,"  Rogers  wrote  from 
that  city  to  his  sister,  September  7,  1830;  and  shortly 
after  added,  "  I  have  now  seen  the  Berrys  and  they  are 
very  animated.  They  were  at  St.  Germains  during  the 
war  in  Paris,  and  went  to  Paris  for  a  few  days  after- 
wards." In  the  following  year  Mary  Berry  published 
the  second  volume  of  the  Comparative  View  of  Social 
Life  in  France  and  England." 


Lord  Dover1  to  Mary  Berry 

Dover  House,  September  26,  1831. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — Many  thanks  for  your 
amiable  letter.  I  trust  you  Lakers  have  had  as  fine 
weather  as  we  Cockneys.  I  never  remember  so  beautiful 
a  season.  We  have  been  endeavouring  to  enjoy  a  little 
of  it  at  Roehampton,  where  in  fact  we  still  are,  though 
I  write,  as  you  see,  from   town.     But  next  week   the 

1  George  James  Welbore  Agar- Ellis  (1797— 1833),  Chief  Commissioner  of 
Woods  and  Forests  1830,  created  Baron  Dover  1831.  He  wrote  a  biography 
of  Frederick  the  Great,  1832,  and  in  the  following  year  he  edited  Horace 
Walpole's  Letters. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     409 

[Reform]  Bill  will  bring  us  permanently  to  London. 
As  the  decision  of  the  House  of  Lords  approaches,  it 
makes  one  very  nervous.  Never  was  there  a  question 
on  which  the  two  parties  were  more  equally  balanced 
and  never  certainly  was  there  a  question  entailing  more 
important  consequences.  I  have  no  doubt,  of  course, 
that  Reform  will  eventually  win  the  day, — but  if  it  does 
not  win  at  once,  we  shall  have  an  awkward  winter. 
However,  I  am,  upon  the  whole,  sanguine  respecting 
our  division.  In  any  case,  I  trust  Ministers  will  not 
think  of  going  out,  if  they  are  beat — this  would  be  too 
foolish.  I  am  sorry  you  do  not  like  our  peers.  I  think 
them  u  very  pretty  Fellows,"  as  the  old  plays  would  say. 
Littelton  and  Portman  were  not  made,  because  it  was 
not  deemed  adviseable  to  open  their  counties.  Burdett 
refused — I  think  very  wisely.  I  think  you  are  very 
likely  to  see  a  few  more  in  the  Gazette,  in  the  course  of 
this  week — so  prepare  yourself  for  it.  Francis  Osborne 
is  talked  of,  and  Lord  Bridport,  .Uxbridge,  Mount 
Charles,  Grey  of  Groby  and  Glebo,  &c. 

Your  versions  of  retrenchments  at  Castle  Howard 
are,  I  think,  very  probable.  As  the  Carlisles  will  not 
most  likely  go  there  this  year,  Loch  may  have  taken  the 
opportunity  to  economize.  But  the  reason  assigned 
— namely,  losses  at  play — is  quite  ridiculous. 

Lambton  has  lost  his  beautiful  Boy,  and  I  hear  Lord 
Grey  is  sadly  cut  up  by  it. 

I  fear  the  Dutch  will  attack  the  Belgians  again,  as 
soon  as  the  Armistice  is  over,  i.e.  on  the  10th  or  nth 
of  October— in  which  case,  I  look  upon  a  general  war  to 
be  inevitable.  The  events  at  Paris  are  calmed  for  the 
moment.  But  the  quiet  of  that  City  seems  to  me  to 
be  very  much  what  Lord  Wellesley  called  the  state  of 
Ireland — "the  quiet  of  Gunpowder." 

Pray  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  Sister. 
Georgiana  desires  the  same  to  both  of  you.— Ever  yours 
most  truly,  DOVER.1 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  189. 


410  BERRY    PAPERS 

Robert  Ferguson  to  Mary  Berry 

Raith,  Sunday,  October  13,  1833. 

My  dear  Mary,— Your  letter  of  the  4th  I  shall 
keep  within  my  reach,  for  it  is  one  to  keep — not  only 
from  my  affectionate  interest  for  the  writer,  but  also  for 
its  firmness  and  wisdom,  and  as  a  guide  to  steer  by, 
when  placed  either  in  reality  or  in  imagination  in  that 
state  of  decadence  which  is  our  irrevocable  fate  in 
advancing  years. 

I  trust  and  hope,  my  dear  Mary,  and  you  do  so 
yourself,  that  you  are  anticipating  and  not  yet  obliged 
to  be  so  serious  about  your  present  selfs. 

To  give  up  the  world  is  a  proof  of  weakness  and 
want  of  energy.  Better  to  be  done  with  life  than  say, 
"  I  have  outlived  all  my  friends  and  acquaintances,"  and 
when  that  is  the  case — and  we  see  many  such — old  age 
becomes  a  melancholy  load  of  ennui.  No — in  whatever 
terrace  of  life  we  still  rest  on,  we  can,  if  well  constituted, 
secure  appropriate  society,  without  making  tiresome 
exertions  to  obtain  it.  Youth  is  fond  of  generous  and 
animated  old  age,  and  advanced  life  is  always  cheered 
by  having  rising  generations  about  them.  That,  I  am 
sure,  is  our  tendency,  and  when  that  is  the  case,  they 
will  not  fail  us. 

Enough  of  Philosophy  for  the  present.  We  had 
Ellice  with  us  on  Friday — was  obliged  to  go  to  Edin- 
burgh to  dine  with  Jeffrey x — but  if  he  can,  will  be  back 
to-morrow  for  a  day's  shooting  before  going  South. 
Lord  Lyndoch  comes  in  a  day  or  two,  and  we  shall 
have  then  no  more  quiets — as  we  migrate  on  the  21st 
to  East  Lothian.     Ronald  remains  with  us  till  the  end 


1  Francis  Jeffrey,  Lord  Jeffrey,  Lord  Advocate  1 830-1 834.  He  was  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  and  a  brilliant  essayist  as  well  as  a 
successful  lawyer. 


I.OKI)  JEFFREY 
From  an  engraving  after  IV.  //.  I.izars.     From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     411 

of  the  Month — and  then  moves  on  to  Holliam.  Robert 
is  with  us  for  a  few  days — and  has  been  at  Edinburgh 
during  the  Race  week,  which  was  very  brilliantly 
attended.  Lady  Londonderry  was  down  at  Dalkeith — 
and  shewed  off  all  her  diamonds.  I  do  feel  for  poor 
Hallam.     What  a  heavy  and  severe  blow  ! x 

There  is  plenty  of  combustible  matter  for  formid- 
able war,  but  Austria  must  remain  quiet,  on  account 
of  Italy,  and  neither  Russia  or  Prussia  dare  attempt — 
whilst  England  and  France  remain  united,  which  can- 
not fail,  for  no  illiberal  Government  can  now  exist 
in  these  two  Countries.  There  will  be  then  after  all 
nothing  but  local  strife. 

Mary  is  now  quite  well  again,  and  sends  her  love 
to  you  both  and  to  Lady  Charlotte  [Lindsay].  We 
have  had  beautiful  weather,  but  cold.  It  now  looks 
like  days  of  rain. 

I  think  it  was  wise  in  you  not  to  make  a  move 
until  you  were  to  go  into  your  Winter  quarters, — Ever 
Affectionately  Yours, 

Robt.  Ferguson.2 


Mary  Berry  to  Miss  Cayley 

Curzon  St.,  February  12,  1834. 

My  dear  Phil., — Gerard  conveyed  to  me  the  other 
day,  in  perfect  condition,  your  kind  remembrance  of 
me,  in  the  shape  of  two  pots  of  Pinks.  They  gave 
my  conscience  a  twinge  for  never  having  acknowledged 
a  most  kind  and  flattering  letter  I  received  from  you 
before  you  left  town  last  Summer.  The  truth  is,  I  am 
grown  very  old,  very  idle,  and  very  indifferent  to  every 
thing  but  the  affections   of  the    Heart.    All   my   little 

1  Arthur  Henry  Hallam,  son  of  the  historian,  died  at  Vienna  on  September 
15,  1833,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two. 
*  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  193. 


4i2  BERRY    PAPERS 

remaining  thought  of  mind  or  character  has  retreated  to 
that  citadel,  and  there  I  mean  it  to  hold  out  valiantly, 
till  the  whole  place  falls  honourably  together,  after  dis- 
puting every  inch  of  ground  on  the  encroachments  of 
Indifference,  or  else  falling  at  once,  by  a  coup  de  main 
— which  you  know  I  rather  prefer.  In  the  meantime  I 
am  getting  on  better  than  I  could  expect,  but  as  nobody 
seems  to  be  aware  of  my  age  but  myself,  I  lose  credit 
for  many  exertions. 

Friday,  February  14. 

I  was  interrupted  by  being  sent  down  for,  to  take 
leave  of  Macaulay,  who  leaves  England  this  very  day 
for  India.  An  honourable  desire  for  securing  to  him- 
self political  Independence,  and  the  fortune  of  two 
Sisters  has  engaged  him  to  take  a  most  honourable 
place  in  the  Council  at  Madras,  but  there  he  must 
remain  for  at  least  six  or  seven  years  !  So  that  my 
farewell  was  for  ever :  and  it  was  certainly  not  without 
sincere  regret  that  I  saw  depart,  so  distinguished,  so 
extraordinary  a  member  of  Society  !  so  very  unlikely 
to  be  soon  replaced  !  For  his  conversational  powers 
were  yet  greater  than  his  House  of  Commons  Eloquence. 

I  see  your  Nephew  often.  He  much  improves  on 
acquaintance,  and  the  world  much  improves  him — which 
I  believe  to  be  the  case  with  all  the  better  order  of 
understandings.  I  introduced  him  last  night  to  Lord 
Lansdowne,  and  they  seemed  to  take  to  each  other.  I 
have  told  him  (your  Nephew)  whenever  he  sees  a  light 
in  our  windows  to  come  up  without  invitation,  which 
is  a  more  comfortable  thing  to  a  single  man  in  London 
than  [formal]  parties. 

I  should  ask  if  you  had  no  intentions  of  reoccupying 
your  old  quarters  at  Gerard's  this  Spring,  but  that  I  am 
myself  uninterested  in  the  question,  for  if  I  do  not  slip 
down  much  lower  on  the  inclined  plane  on  which  we 
are  all  treading,  we  mean  after  Easter  to  cross  over  to 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     413 

Paris  for  three  or  four  months.  I  wish  once  more  to 
see  it,  and  hating  London  after  Easter  and  being  de- 
termined not  to  remain  in  it,  I  would  rather  go  there 
at  that  season  than  anywhere  else.  The  Spring  at  Paris 
and  its  environs  is  beautiful,  and  I  shall  endeavour  to  let 
somebody  into  our  House  here  who  prefers  smoke  and 
bustle  to  flowers  and  a  clear  sky.  I  suppose  I  shall  see 
Sir  George  here,  before  we  go,  which  will  be  about  the 
8th  or  10th  of  April. 

And  now  farewell,  dear  Phill. — for  I  have  been 
again  interrupted,  altho'  not  by  another  Macaulay. 
God  bless  you  and  keep  that  corner  of  your  heart  warm 
where  you  have  been  so  good  as  to  allow  me  a  place. 

M.  Berry.1 


Richard  Westmacott,  R.A.,2  to  Mary  Berry 

21  Wilton  Place,  May  10,  1834. 

Dear  Madam, — You  were  so  good  as  to  say  you  should 
be  glad  to  hear  from  me  some  account  of  the  Exhibition, 
Belles  Arts,  &c,  and  I  best  show  my  sense  of  the  dis- 
tinction by  obeying  your  wishes,  tho'  I  fear  you  will  be 
ready  to  blame  your  own  rashness  in  volunteering  to 
encounter  so  sorry  a  letter-writer  as  you  will  find  me.  I 
almost  foreswore  criticism  the  other  day — at  least  before 
non-artists — from  an  observation  that  was  made  in  my 
presence  by  a  Dilletante,  one  who  "  paints "  himself ! 
It  arose  from  an  Artist's  praising  the  works  of  some  of 
his  brethren  now  in  the  exhibition — "Ah  !  they  all  hang 
together — Praise  me,  I'll  praise  you  ! "  And  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  upon  being  told  that  a  work  he 
commended  was  not  thought  very  highly  of  by  the  Pro- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  195. 

*  Richard  Westmacott  (1799-1872),  eldest  son  of  Sir  Richard  Westmacott. 
Both  father  and  son  were  distinguished  sculptors. 


4i4 


BERRY    PAPERS 


fession,  he  as  wisely  and  liberally  remarked,  "  Very  likely 
— but  Artists  and  Authors,  you  know,  when  their  brethren 
are  praised,  &c.  &c.  ..."  I  could  easily  have  made  him 
cut  his  own  fingers  from  his  awkward  use  of  his  double- 
edged  sword,  but  he  would  only  have  hated  me  for  life 
— or  put  me  down  for  one  of  the  "irritabile  genus" — so 
I  left  him  alone.  You,  however,  will  have  the  generosity 
not  to  think  me  'necessarily  a  humbug  (con  rispetto  par- 
lando)  and  at  the  least  I  promise  to  show  my  honesty, 
if  I  don't  my  judgement.  I  think  then  our  Exhibition 
is  extremely  satisfactory.  There  is  a  good  show  of 
subject  on  fancy  Pictures,  tho'  poor  Newton,  Leslie  and 
Etty  are  not  contributors,  and  the  general  tone  of  colour 
is  lower  and  richer  than  we  have  been  accustomed  to. 
There  are  but  few  Portraits  of  Ladies,  particularly 
Ladies  of  Fashion,  who  do  not  yet  seem  to  have  dis- 
covered an  artist  who  can  do  them  justice.  Lawrence 
has  indeed  left  an  hiatus  valde  deflendusf  Landseer's 
"  Bolton  Abbey  in  the  olden  time  " — Monks  receiving 
contributions  of  Game,  Fish,  &c,  from  the  Country 
people — is  a  delightful  picture.  It  is  painted  for  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire,  who  is  quite  pleased  with  it. 
Eastlake  has  a  small  picture  full  of  talent,  of  the  escape 
of  Francesco  di  Carrara  and  his  sick  Lady,  Taddea 
d'Este,  from  Galeazzo  Visconti.  Turner  is  splendid  in 
his  fairy  and  poetical  Landscapes,  and  Callcott  beautiful 
as  ever.  Wilkie's  best — and  a  beautiful  work  it  is — is  a 
group  of  a  Spanish  Mother  and  Child,  the  latter  playfully 
pulling  the  mother  back.  His  whole  length  of  Her 
Majesty  I  do  not  like.  He  also  has  a  whole  length  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  of  which  Mr.  Rogers — who  was 
looking  at  it  with  me — said,  "  I  would  have  sworn  the 
Tailors  had  struck! " — and  truly  poor  Wilkie's  "Trowsers" 
haven't  even  the  promise  of  the  celebrated  Pun,  for  I 
don't  think  anything  could  be  made  of  them.  Our 
keeper,  Hilton,  has  a  fine  historical  Picture  of  the  find- 
ing of  Harold's  body  after  the  battle  of  Hastings — a  first 


RICHARD    WESTMACOTT 

From  an  entreating  by  Thomson  after  J.  Derby 

From  the  Collection  of  John  Lane 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     415 

rate  work.  Amongst  the  good  Portraits  is  "  Mrs.  Somer- 
ville  "  by  Phillips,  who  is  strong.  Poor  Miss  Martineau, 
too,  is  there,  and  not  flattered — al  contrario  ! — which  is 
a  hard  case  upon  all  parties.  Shee,  our  President,  has 
one  or  two  excellent  Portraits,  particularly  one  of  His 
Majesty,  whole  length,  and  a  smaller  of  Sir  Henry 
Halford,  for  Sir  Robert  Peel.  There  are  works  of  half- 
a-dozen  other  men — only  I  should  fatigue  you  by  par- 
ticularizing too  much — who  prove  that  what  is  done  in 
Art  is  better  done  here  than  anywhere  else  just  now.  I 
put  historical  Art  out  of  the  question  of  course,  for  alas ! 
there's  no  employment  in  it — nor  are  our  houses,  if  there 
were  a  taste  for  it,  adapted  to  receive  large  pictures,  but 
for  our  comfort,  where  is  it  practised  nowadays,  with 
success?  Echo  answers  "where?" — but  in  Portrait, 
Landscape,  Seaviews,  Home  Subjects — animals,  and 
in  every  branch  for  which  there  is  a  demand  I  am 
proud  to  say — and  I  am  sure  you  will  agree  with 
me — we  yield  to  no  country.  I  grieve  to  say  there 
is  but  little  to  boast  of  this  year  in  Sculpture.  My 
Father  has  a  fine  statue  of  Locke,  and  Wyatt  of  Rome 
has  a  beautiful  group — there  perhaps  I  had  better 
stop — for  your  Patience  and  our  Honour's  sake.  The 
Duchess  of  Sutherland  did  me  the  honor  to  come 
up  to  me  at  the  private  View  at  Somerset  House. 
The  recognition  was  flattering,  tho'  it  was  "  Vox  et 
prcBterea  nihil!"  The  Dukes — past  and  present — are 
in  every  variety  of  form  and  size  in  the  Sculpture  room 
by  the  protege  of  her  Grace  the  Duchess-Countess. 

Charades  seem  to  be  increasing  in  popularity.  If  it 
goes  on  thus,  there  won't  be  a  word  capable  of  dis- 
memberment left  unanatomized  in  the  Dictionary.  Mrs. 
Cheney,  Lady  M.  Shephard  and  Lady  Charlotte  Bury 
keep  the  chief  Rival  establishments.  Lady  H.  Williams 
came  in  to  the  Ladies  FitzPatrick's  on  Thursday  full  of 
Lady  C.  Bury's.     She  had  borrowed  the  Paper  warehouse, 


4i6  BERRY    PAPERS 

under  her  own  apartments,  for  her  Salle,  and  had 
covered  herself  with  glory !  I  don't  know  what  we 
shall  make  of  it  next  Thursday  at  Mrs.  Cheney's, 
after  the  success  of  the  Rival  Houses.  How  I  wish 
we  could  be  honoured  by  the  presence  of  our  Trio. 
I  have  had  to  write  one  on  "  Farewell "  and  I  think 
you  would  smile  at  the  shifts  I  have  been  put  to 
to  make  a  petite  comedie  of  each  syllable,  and  then 
the  sum  totile  of  the  whole,  as  Mrs.  Hume  would 
call  it.  I  asked  Luttrell  what  I  had  better  do  for 
the  second  syllable ;  he  said  "  Let  well  alone !  It's  a 
good  rule." 

Quin's  Book,1  if  it  is  not  yet  out,  will  be  born  in  a 
few  days.  The  whole  profession  will  be  upon  him,  but 
he  will  take  a  good  deal  of  beating.  Mr.  Morris's  work 
too  is  now  anxiously  expected,  but  you  know,  I  doubt 
not,  what  sad  fellows  publishers  are.  Longman  has 
announced  a  new  Edition  of  your  interesting  Volumes 
"  with  the  usual  forms."  Nothing  however  has  appeared 
very  lately  of  any  great  calibre  nor  of  much  interest. 
Rosa  Matildas  and  the  numerous  family  of  the  anonymi 
send  forth,  al  solito,  heroes  and  heroines  of  what  they 
call  fashionable  life ;  but  I  cannot  report  anything  very 
remarkable  for  its  excellence. 

I  hope  the  change  of  air  and  variety  of  scene  have 
completely  re-established  Lady  Charlotte's  health,  and 
that  you  and  Miss  Agnes  continue  well.  You  know  not 
how  much  you  are  all  missed,  as  you  would  not  leave 
Curzon  Street  at  this  season.  Of  myself  I  say  nothing, 
for  one  grumbler  in  the  family  is  enough  !  But  truly  it 
has  been  a  bad  year.  I  fear  I  have  (if  you  read  so  far) 
tired  out  your  Patience.     Pardon  me  and   remember 

1  Presumably  Dr.  Frederick  Henry  Foster  Quin  (1799-1878),  the  first 
homoeopathic  physician  in  England,  and  as  such,  much  disliked  by  his  pro- 
fessional brethren.  In  1834  he  published  Pharmacopeia  Homaopathica, 
which  was  dedicated  to  Leopold,  King  of  the  Belgians,  whose  family  physician 
he  had  been  at  Claremont. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     417 

you  drew  it  on  yourself.  I  beg  to  throw  myself  at  all 
your  feet  (rather  awkward  in  English  ! )  and  to  subscribe 
myself  with  great  respect, 

Your  obedient  and  grateful  servant, 

Richard  Westmacott. 

My  Father  would  desire — if  he  knew  I  were  writing 
to  you — to  have  his  Compliments  made,  and  pray  accept 
them  as  if  he  were  at  my  elbow.  His  Duke  of  York 
seems  to  be  doing  him  honour  ;  His  Majesty  has  not 
distinguished  him  (though  he  has  seen  him  three  or  four 
times  lately)  by  offering  any  observation  upon  it.  I 
know  my  Father  feels  this,  but  His  Majesty  one  day 
called  works  of  Art  "  Gimcracks  !  Figuratevi  !  "  I  know 
it  for  a  fact — "  poveri  noi  altil I"  1 


Richard  Westmacott  to  Mary  Berry 

London,  August  19,  1834. 

Dear  Madam, — In  meaning  to  avoid  being  thought 
a  bore  I'm  afraid  I  have  run  the  risk  of  being  set  down 
as  idle — or  worn — negligent — for  having  left  your  kind 
letter  so  long  unacknowledged.  The  return  of  Mr. 
Luttrell,  the  Byngs,  and  others,  from  Paris  reminds  me 
of  the  time  I  have  lost,  and  I  hasten  to  throw  myself  at 
vostra  piedi.  Mrs.  Byng  is  full  of  your  kindness  to  her, 
and  has  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  me  I  should 
have  been  very  happy  had  I  also  been  with  you.  I 
assure  you  I  had  a  hard  fight  with  myself  before  I 
could  entirely  give  up  the  pleasure  your  temptation  to 
go  to  Paris  held  out  to  me,  but  I  could  make  no  better 
excuse  than  my  own  particular  enjoyment,  and  I  may 
confess  to  you  that  I  am  not  quite  able  to  indulge  in 
such  pleasurable  vagaries — I  must  confine  my  Villeggia- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  199. 

2  D 


418  BERRY    PAPERS 

tura  to  England  for  the  present,  endeavouring  to  mix 
the  "utile"  with  the  "duke." 

Your  observation  of  the  deterioration  of  taste  in  the 
French  helps  to  confirm  me  in  my  opinion  that  your 
very  free  governments  are  a  species  of  "mal  occhio"  to 
the  developement  of  the  Fine  Arts.  I  know  many  writers 
and  Fathers  hold  a  different  Doctrine,  but  I  am  strongly 
inclined  to  dispute  it,  and  without  going  into  the  whys 
and  the  wherefores,  I  think  the  history  of  the  arts 
affords  sufficient  ground  for  the  contrary  opinion.  In 
Greece  they  flourished — indeed,  in  nominally  free  Italy; 
but  surely  Athens,  the  chief  seat  of  Arts  in  sculpture 
and  architecture's  most  flourishing  period,  that  is  under 
Pericles,  was  hardly  free.  The  Spartans,  really  free, 
had  no  Art.  There  was  very  little  in  Rome — none 
properly  Roman,  for  the  best  about  the  beginning  of 
the  Empire  (and  that  by  the  bye,  when  they  were  be- 
ginning to  lose  their  freedom),  was  Grecian — the  fitful 
start  under  Adrian  hardly  deserves  mention,  its  duration 
was  so  short — it  reminds  me  of  Pope's  lines, 

"  Collects  her  breath  as  ebbing  life  retires 
For  one  puff  more,  and  in  that  puff  expires." 

In  more  modern  times  the  most  flourishing  period  of 
Art  in  Italy  was  when  that  country  was  anything  but 
free — for  the  Medici's  Republic  of  Florence  was  vox  et 
Preterea  nihil!  but  they  had  the  Angels  and  a  race  of 
Giants.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Rome  and  of  Venice, 
the  three  great  schools  of  modern  art.  The  most  flourish- 
ing time  of  all  in  France  was  under  Louis  XIV  and 
Napoleon.  Ours  never  came  to  anything,  but  it  budded 
about  the  reigns  of  Henry  VIII  and  then  for  Charles  I, 
bad  free  times  !  but  it  "  died  and  made  no  sign."  With 
us  it  never  had  a  fair  chance — there  must  be  a  certain 
degree  of  civilization  before  Art  can  be  thought  of. 
We  had  hardly  attained  that  when  the  Reformation  sent 
the  Virgin  Mary  (the  modern  Minerva  of  Artists)  to  the 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     419 

right  about,  and  then  one  great  opening  to  Art  enjoyed 
by  other  Countries  was  closed  to  us.  Occasionally  an 
extraordinary  genius  may  arrive,  and  a  beautiful  work 
will  be  produced ;  but  whether  the  changes  that  are 
now  taking  place  partout  are  for  "weal  or  for  woe" 
generally,  it  is  not  for  me  to  decide,  but  I  am  sure  her 
Beaux  Arts  will  suffer — that  is  the  higher  branches  of 
them — and  a  trade,  divested  of  its  poetry,  and  the  high 
feeling  and  study  that  should  accompany  it,  their  prac- 
tice may  go  on — but  Art,  as  I  believe  art  should  be 
followed,  is  gone  back  to  its  nativi  soggiorni,  be  they 
where  they  may.  These  being  my  opinions,  pray  ad- 
mire that  Spartan  Virtue  of  an  Artist,  who  professes  to 
be  a  Whig.  I  shall  like  to  hear  what  you  think  upon 
this  subject. 

As  every  thing  as  well  as  every  body  gets  to  Paris  I 
daresay  you  have  read  Mr.  Beckford's  book  of  Travels.1 
Notwithstanding  much  beautiful  writing  and  rich  and 
poetical  description,  I  think  it  disappoints  people's 
expectations  —  perhaps  they  were  unfairly  indulged, 
but  I  suspect  it  is  dangerous — or  at  least  injudicious, 
to  publish  in  old  age  the  promise  of  youth.  The 
odour  of  freshness  is  gone  by,  and  one  can't  be  quite 
satisfied  in  being  shown,  in  Autumn,  the  blossoms  of 
Spring,  however  brilliant  or  well  preserved  they  may  be. 

I  sat  an  hour  on  Sunday  with  Mrs.  Callcott.  She 
seems  to  be  getting  weaker  and  weaker  physically,  but 
her  powers  of  mind  are  strong  as  ever,  and  when  she 
can  do  so  she  enjoys  seeing  and  conversing  with  her 
friends — she  has  lately  shown  herself  "  game "  by 
firing  a  very  strong  and  clever  pamphlet  at  Mr. 
Greenough,2  the  President  of  the  Geological  Society,  who 

1  William  Beckford  (1760-1844),  the  author  of  Vathek,  published  1834, 
Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  a  revised  version  of  the  suppressed 
Dreams,  Waking  Thoughts,  and  Incidents,  printed  1783. 

1  George  Bellas  Greenough  (1778-1855),  President  of  the  Geological 
Society,  181 1,  President  of  the  Geographical  Society,  1839. 


420  BERRY    PAPERS 

reflected  in  some  measure  upon  Mrs.  Graham's  account 
of  the  earthquake  at  Chili  in  1822  (in  his  address  to  the 
Society  at  the  end  of  the  season).  "  Some  d — d  good- 
natured  friend,"  as  Sheridan  says,  of  course  told  her  of 
it,  and  the  consequence  to  the  worthy  President  is  a 
very  severe  shaking  ! 

Where  do  you  think  Protheroe  is  gone  to,  to  get  his 
Radical  notions  corrected  ?  Moscow  ! — If  the  Autocrat 
of  All  the  Russias  means  to  have  such  a  violent  ex-M.P. 
in  his  dominions,  he  will  certainly  pass  the  Lady  Morgan 
sentence  against  him,  and  bow  him  out,  and  Protheroe 
will  return,  for  the  season,  a  political  martyr. 

The  board  in  front  of  the  new  Palace  is  removed,  and 
it  is  now  exposed  to  public  view — a  handsome  iron-railing 
with  gilt  spearheads,  extending  from  each  extremity  of 
the  stone  building  to  the  Marble  Arch,  connects  them  in 
unnatural  alliance.  The  Architect  might  have  offered 
the  country  the  expanse  of  the  railing — The  Critic's  had, 
and  do  still,  supply  an  ample  provision  of  it — nearly  40 
feet  of  loose  alti  rilievi  of  the  triumphs  of  our  army 
and  navy — executed  in  marble  by  me,  for  the  Arch,  are 
promised  to  the  garrets  on  the  Garden  Front  of  the 
Palace — and  Nelson  dying  in  the  Cockpit  of  the  Victory 
(to  say  nothing  of  her  arms)  and  the  Battle  of  Waterloo, 
by  my  Father,  decorate  the  Attick  on  the  Park  front  of 
the  same  !  They  say  placing  them  so  has  saved  a  great 
quantity  of  stone  facing !  Vivent  Lord  Duncannon 
and  Mr.  Blore. 

As  you  are  of  my  select  Committee  and  are  so  kind 
as  to  take  some  interest  in  my  little  doings,  in  and  out 
of  my  own  Art,  I  take  the  liberty  of  acquainting  you 
that  Keeley,  the  actor,  has  requested  a  Farce  for  the 
opening  of  Vestris'  Theatre,  and  I  have  sent  him  the  one 
I  read  to  you,  which  was  too  late  for  the  last  season.  I 
don't  make  a  farce  of  my  profession,  nor  a  profession  of 
my  farces,  but  writing  them  amuses  me  and  it  makes, 
as  Mr.  Callcott  called  it  one  day,  an  interlude  between 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     421 

the  marble  life  and  bread  and  meat  life  !  If  it's  done  I 
trust  you  will  be  here  to  give  me  a  helping  hand.  I  had 
no  intention  when  I  began  of  trying  your  Patience  so  far 
as  my  four  sides  of  scribbling  must  have  done — Eheu 
jam  satis  !  I  hear  you  crying.  Pardon  the  consequence 
of  your  kindness,  and  permission  to  trouble  you.  I  trust 
you  are  well,  and  meaning  to  be  in  London  again  in 
November — I  beg  to  offer  my  best  respects  to  Lady 
Charlotte  and  Miss  Agnes,  and  have  the  honour  to  be, 
Dear  Madam,  your  much  obliged 

Rich.  Westmacott.1 


The  Duke  of  Sutherland2  to  Mary  Berry 

Dunrobin,  September,  10,  1834. 

Your  Letter  of  the  28th  of  August,  my  Dear  Miss 
Berry,  is  most  acceptable  and  most  interesting  to  me. 
I  only  received  it  two  days  ago,  and  hasten  to 
answer  it,  and  to  tell  you  my  own  history  since  the 
barren  Letter  of  which  you  so  justly  complain.  I  must 
defend  myself,  however,  in  one  article,  that  of  politics, 
of  which  I  think  as  little  as  I  possibly  can,  excepting 
as  to  what  is  called  the  politics  of  my  own  environs, 
but  you  are  so  fully  informed  of  all  public  events  by 
the  newspapers  that  my  corollaries  would  be  superfluous 
at  any  time.  I  sincerely  hope  all  may  go  on  well, 
and  am  much  soothed  and  comforted  by  having  had 
the  Chancellor,  here  for  some  days,  his  society  [?]  quite 
delightful  as  you  know.  He  took  a  great  interest  in 
the  improvements  here,  we  had  fine  weather  and  every- 
thing au  souhait.  I  assure  you  that  you  were  not  for- 
gotten. He  and  I  expect  to  dine  with  you  in  November. 
He  received  the  freedom  of  four  Boroughs  here  yester- 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  220. 

2  George  Granville  Leveson-Gower,  second  Duke  of  Sutherland  (1786- 
186 1),  who  had  succeeded  to  the  Dukedom  on  the  death  of  his  father  in  1833. 


422  BERRY    PAPERS 

day  sur  ces  antiques  parages  au  but  du  monde,  and  made 
most  beautiful  little  speeches  to  each  deputation.  We 
had  a  breakfast  for  them  afterwards,  (about  40),  and 
he  departed  for  Edinburgh  and  a  hundred  visits  by 
the  way.  While  he  was  here  we  also  had  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Buccleuch  part  of  the  time,  the  Yorkes, 
and  latterly  Lord  and  Lady  Harrowby,  who  are  new 
here — previously  the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  and  Miss 
Leach,  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford  (hang  my  half  sheet) 
is  coming.  I  had  all  my  gentlemen  by  turns  to  dine 
during  this  visit,  and  there  was  a  great  curiosity  to 
see  the  Chancellor,  and  they  were  amused  one  night 
by  seeing  the  great  seal  affixed  to  a  Treaty  with  Spain. 
All  this,  with  fine  weather,  shooting,  &c,  was  very 
agreeable  and  cheerful  as  the  local  here  is  so,  in  those 
circumstances.  Now  an  orage  has  come  on  and  the 
sea  very  rough  and  angry,  but  these  storms  generally 
pass  over  in  a  few  days,  and  September  and  October 
are  generally  fine  months. 

I  do  not  foresee  being  in  London  late  in  November, 
but  I  think  I  shall  then  repose  myself  there  by  coming 
directly  from  hence,  and  going  perhaps  afterwards  for 
a  short  time  to  Trentham,  &c. 

On  my  arrival  here  I  had  to  set  out  on  a  journey 
by  the  new  roads  round  the  coasts  and  to  see  all  1 
could  of  the  more  remote  parts  that  I  had  not  seen, 
which  occupied  a  fortnight  busily.  Lord  and  Lady 
Surrey,  who  I  am  happy  to  say  are  here,  met  me  at 
Tongue,  formerly  Lord  Reay's  residence,  and  it  was 
altogether  very  pleasant.  The  North  Sea  dashing 
against  the  great  wall  of  rock  that  those  coasts  have 
to  defend  them  from  it — part  of  their  journey  was 
curious — later  covered  with  white  Kyorphen  Alba  in 
full  flower.  Many  more  useful  productions  on  the 
coasts  and  in  the  valleys,  excellent  crops  everywhere, 
in  short  all  I  saw  and  met  with  was  most  satisfactory. 
I  had  Mr.  Loch  and  various  gens-d' affaires  with  me. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     423 

You  will  very  reasonably  be  tired  of  all  this  detail, 
and  now  I  must  proceed  to  say  that  I  am  well  acquainted 
with  Bellevue,  having  formerly  breakfasted  there  with 
the  old  Mesdames,  and  gone  about  the  Farm  with 
Madame  Victoire  dressed  d  moitie  en  homme — (a  large 
man's  hat — petticoats  of  the  other  sex)  Eugene  de  Laval 
en  AbbS  at  a  side  table,  abbes  not  being  up  to  the  same 
table  with  the  Mesdames  Royales.  The  next  time  I  saw 
it  after  these  unfortunate  ladies  were  swept  away,  it  had 
been  purchased  by  somebody  and  was  half  a  ruin.  At 
present  by  what  you  describe  it  is  pleasantly  and  use- 
fully employed  by  harbouring  you  and  a  great  deal  of 
good  society  in  its  environs.  The  country  about  it  is 
charming  in  all  these  little  woods — Venddme  &c.  I  went 
once  from  thence  with  Madame  de  Pareite  round  to 
Versailles,  St.  Germains,  and  also  saw  Marl6,  and  made 
a  day  of  it,  I  don't  know  how  or  by  what  way,  but  through 
forests  and  a  beautiful  country.  This  was  forty-three 
years  ago. 

I  should  like  much  to  meet  you  one  time  or  another 
at  Paris,  but  I  must  during  this  October  apply  myself 
entirely  to  my  diurnal  affairs  here,  walking  over  all  the 
settlements  I  can  reach  bit  by  bit,  and  doing  a  great 
deal  of  what  we  call  business  of  that  sort — looking  at 
trees,  imagining  that  they  grow  the  better — surveying 
mill  wheels,  peeping  into  ditches  to  see  if  they  have 
a  good  run,  and  above  all  lamenting  that  the  herring 
fishing  this  year  has  failed,  compensated  a  little  by  a 
fine  harvest. 

I  have  also  to  look  at  some  schools,  and  to  try  to 
find  a  slate  quarry  if  possible,  and  this  must  continue 
till  the  shortness  of  the  day-light  may  warn  me  away, 
as  I  think  the  winter  nights  here  might  be  too  long. 

I  must  wish  and  hope  as  do  all  for  the  return  of 
L.  de  T.  to  England,  and  I  have  great  hopes  that  the 
present  obstacles  will  be  removed.  He  and  Madame  de 
Ducie  would  be  a  great  loss  to  our  society.     Madame 


424  BERRY    PAPERS 

L' Infanta,  the  wife  of  Don  Carlos,  is  dead  of  some 
violent  complaint,  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
cholera ;  but  it  is  melancholy,  particularly  for  the  other 
Infanta,  who  remains,  somewhere  near  Portrush. 

With  my  kindest  regards  to  your  associates, — Ever 
my  dear  Miss  Berry,  most  affectionately  yours, 

Sutherland.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Phil  Cayley 

Curzon  Street,  April 9,  1835. 

My  dear  Phil, — If  the  unknown  tongues  are  half 
as  excellent  as  the  Saint  Sally's,  if  they  will  even  con- 
tribute as  much  towards  agreeable  converse  as  I  hope 
hers  will  at  our  table,  I  shall  think  more  seriously  of 
them  than  I  ever  have  done.  As  for  your  magnificent 
Loaf — I  want  words  to  express  its  charms,  not  only  to 
myself,  but  to  everybody  who  has  tasted  it,  and  to  the 
highly  favoured  few  who  have  obtained  a  little  corner 
of  it.  Had  you  seen  the  4th  plate  of  bread  and  butter, 
devoured  at  our  tea  table  the  other  Evening,  you 
would  have  seen  how  well  bestowed  your  present,  not 
only  on  me,  but  on  my  Society. 

Now  as  to  business.  The  Saint  writes  me  word,  in 
a  very  well  edited  Epistle,  that  the  cost  of  the  Tongues 
is  £1.  10.  o.  and  to  her  trouble  I  am  welcome.  But  I 
hope  ten  shillings  added  to  the  price  of  the  tongues  will 
be  as  welcome  to  Sally  as  her  tongues  to  me.  So  tell 
me  how  I  shall  convey  to  her  a  couple  of  sovereigns. 
The  carriage  is  the  only  thing  that  seems  dear,  as  it 
costs  eleven  shillings.  But  still  I  am  much  pleased  in 
every  way  with  my  bargain. 

I  have  not  beheld  Edward  for  these  last  ten  days. 
The  whole  world  have  lived  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  223. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     425 

The  event  of  their  labours  there,  the  papers  of  to-day 
will  tell  you.  The  Tory  Ministry  have  ceased  to  exist,1 
and  more  than  this,  nobody  can  tell  you.  At  half  past 
six  yesterday  evening  the  King  had  not  sent  to  Lord 
Grey,  as  was  reported,  and  who  he  will  send  to  is  as 
yet  a  secret.  I  don't  envy  those  coming  into  place, 
whoever  they  may  be.  Peel  has  raised  himself  infinitely 
in  the  opinion  of  the  Country  and  will  be  at  the  head 
of  a  much  better  organized  opposition  than  ours  has 
been.  If,  which  nobody  can  yet  know,  there  is  to  be 
another  Dissolution,  it  will  not  take  place  till  Autumn. 
But  I  don't  believe  in  it.  Sir  George  is  looking  very 
well,  and  happy  to  be  out  of  the  scrape.2 


Lord  Jeffrey  to  Mary  Berry 

6  Arlington  Street,  Thursday  Evening,  21  [1837]. 

Dear  Miss  Berry, — The  unexpected  loss  of  a  dear 
friend  has  disenchanted  London  for  me,  and  I  leave  it 
to-morrow  for  Scotland.  But  I  cannot  go  without 
thanking  you  for  your  constant  kindness,  and  what  you 
must  allow  me  to  believe,  your  real  regard.  I  regret 
very  much  that  I  cannot  make  out  my  promised  pilgrim- 
age to  Petersham,  and  can  sincerely  assure  you  that  there 
are  few  things  on  which  I  turn  my  back  with  so  much 
regret  as  the  prospect  of  enjoying  more  of  your  society. 

Is  there  no  chance  of  your  coming  North  again  in 
the  autumn  ?  At  all  events  let  me  retain  a  little  corner 
in  your  recollection  till  we  meet  again  in  spring.  With 
kindest  remembrance  to  your  sister,  Believe  me  always, 
Your  obliged  and  very  faithful, 

F.  Jeffrey.3 

1  Sir  Robert  Peel,  who  came  into  office  in  December  1834,  resigned  in 
the  following  April.  Lord  Grey  declined  to  form  a  Government,  and  Lord 
Melbourne  became  Prime  Minister  for  the  second  time. 

a  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  197. 

8  From  the  original  letter  in  the  possession  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


426  BERRY    PAPERS 

Earl  of  Carlisle  to  Mary  Berry 

Castle  Howard,  December  8,  1 843. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — I  have  read  the  third 
volume  and  two  parts  of  the  fourth  of  the  Selwyn  Corre- 
spondence.1 I  confess  that  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  you 
with  regard  to  my  Father's  letters.  Some  may  be  credi- 
table, but  that  which  details  his  losses  at  play,  and  that 
which  applies  the  term  old  rascal  to  Franklin  might 
as  well  have  been  spared.  They  were  all  written  in  the 
strictest  confidence  to  Selwyn  upon  the  most  private 
matters.  The  publication  I  conceive  to  be  quite  un- 
justifiable. You  ask  me  about  the  Baron  and  the  Lady. 
The  Baron,  whose  name  I  do  not  precisely  remember, 
was,  I  have  always  understood,  an  unprincipled  ad- 
venturer and  rogue,  and  possessed  too  great  an  ascen- 
dancy over  the  Lady,  especially  in  financial  matters. 
I  am  glad  that  the  same  is  not  obvious,  and  I  ought  not 
to  be  the  person  to  disclose  it,  as  most  of  the  notes  are 
sad  book-making  expletives,  and  what  a  portrait  he  has 
given  of  the  Duke  of  Queensberry,  with  the  Star  of  the 
Garter  which  he  never  had,  and  features  as  like  mine 
as  this.  1  shall  not  repine  at  the  work  having  few 
readers,  for  never  was  a  family  so  mercilessly  exposed 
as  ours.  There  is,  however,  one  letter  which  pleases 
me  much,  that  of  Horace  Walpole  upon  this  place, 
which  is  very  flattering. 

I  wish  that  I  could  inform  you  about  our  plans,  but 
disabled  by  gout,  and  harassed  by  cough  I  hardly  know 
how  to  form  them.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  you  had 
been  suffering.  With  many  thanks  for  writing  to  me 
believe  me,  Always  very  sincerely  yours, 

Carlisle.2 

1  George  Selwyn  and  his  Contemporaries^  with  Memoir  and  Notes.     Edited 
by  John  Heneage  Jesse,  4  vols.,  1843. 
1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  231. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     427 


Mary  Berry  to  Mrs.  Lamb 

Tuesday,  March  12  [1845]. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Lamb, — A  letter  which  I  have  this 
morning  received  from  Castle  Howard  emboldens  me 
to  address  you  once  more  on  the  subject  of  your  house. 
G.,  after  giving  a  very  comfortable  account  of  Lord 
Carlisle's  state,  says  "  You  and  Mrs.  Lamb  tell  me  very 
different  stories.  She  tells  me  you  will  not  take  her 
house  because  it  is  not  large  enough  to  hold  Lady  Cha. 
Lindsay,  which  I  cannot  believe.  I  must  write  and  tell 
her  how  happy  I  should  be  in  profiting  by  the  six 
months'  absence,  tho'  I  am  sure  she  knows  it." 

Now  we  have  given  up  all  hopes  of  having  Lady 
Cha.  under  the  same  roof  with  us,  as  Miss  Foley  keeps 
the  house  on  the  hill  till  July  for  certain.  And  if  you 
will  make  up  your  mind  to  give  up  your  house  for  6 
months,  and  make  all  your  friends  happy  by  your 
company,  we  have  found  that  we  can  add  -£50  to  what 
I  mentioned  on  the  rent,  and  certainly  ^250  will  go  a 
great  way  in  Railroads  and  Hotels,  and  carry  you  from 
one  end  of  the  Kingdom  to  another. 

Wednesday  Morning,  March  13. 

Thus  far  had  I  written  yesterday  morning.  In  the 
evening  I  received  your  welcome  note.  We  now,  I 
hope,  have  settled  the  matter  to  the  satisfaction  of  both 
parties,  for  ^250  is  just  about  the  amount  that  Mr. 
Pigot  advises  you  to  take.  I  received  the  letter  from 
him  which  you  announce,  in  which,  take  notice,  he  never 
mentions  your  House,  but  strongly  recommends  to 
us  Bingham  Villa.  However,  I  trust  we  are  now  settled 
with  our  old  favourite  and  shall  renew  with  much  satis- 
faction with  Mr.  Bennet  and  with  The  Tortoise. 

You  know  that  when  we  are  in  your  house,  you  can 


428  BERRY    PAPERS 

always  get  out  of  it  anything  you  want,  and  that  anything 
you  leave  will  be  taken  special  care  of.  I  should  have 
you  down  immediately  to  talk  these  matters  over  with 
you,  but  I  have  been  for  the  last  four  days  so  ill  with 
a  severe  attack  of  cold,  which,  altho'  not  exactly  the 
Influenza,  has  confined  me  to  my  room  till  to-day,  and 
has  left  me  so  hoarse  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  hear 
or  to  understand  me.  I  suppose  this  cannot  last,  and 
as  soon  as  it  ceases  you  will  see  us  for  half  an  hour. 

Morpeth  comes  from  Castle  Howard  to-morrow  with 
Lord  Doreen.  They  go  to  the  Irish  dinner  and  [are] 
to  return  to  Castle  Howard  on  Monday.  I  am  afraid 
he  will  have  no  time  to  see  the  likes  of  us.  You  must 
be  aware  of  all  the  good  you  will  do  at  Castle  Howard, 
which  there  seems  to  be  no  thought  of  leaving. 

Yours  ever  most  sincerely 

M.  Berry.1 


Mary  Berry  to  Mrs.  Austin 2 

Richmond,  Tuesday,  May  26,  1846. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Austin, — I  only  waited  till  the  flurry 
of  your  wedding  was  over  to  claim  your  promise  of 
coming  to  see  us  here.  But  I  did  not  know  till  your 
note  of  yesterday  how  little  time  I  had  to  lose,  or  how 

soon  I  had  to  lose  you  for  ,  the  next  is  an  ugly 

word  I  don't  like  to  pronounce,  or  to  write,  be- 
cause it  conveys  a  melancholy  which  ought  not  to 
attach  to  it.  In  the  mean  time,  then,  can  you  and  will 
you,  come  and  dine  with  us  on  Friday  next,  or  if  that 
should  not  suit  on  Monday  next  the  1st  June  ?  I  have 
written  to  Sidney  Smith  to  make  the  same  proposal  to 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 

*  Sarah  Taylor  (1793-1867),  who  in  1820  married  John  Austin,  the  jurist. 
She  is  best  known  as  the  translator  of  Ranke's  History  of  the  Popes  (1840), 
and  the  same  writer's  History  of  the  Reformation  in  Germany  (1845),  which 
latter  work  is  referred  to  in  this  letter. 


MRS.  SARAH    AUSTIN 
From  a  drawing  on  stone  by  Weld  Taylor  after  H.  P.  Briggs  R.A. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     429 

him,  and  you  must  put  yourself  en  relation  with  him  to 
know  which  of  these  days  will  suit  you  both.  I  should 
much  enjoy  proposing  to  you  to  stay  for  a  day  or  two 
with  us,  and  we  could  make  you  comfortable  as  to 
Lodging,  but  I  fear  you  have  no  time  for  such  idle- 
ness. 

I  am  very  sorry  to  restore  you  the  first  volume  of 
Ranke  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  read  it,  but  as  Murray 
was  civil  enough  to  lend  us  the  second  Vol.  I  intend  to 
persuade  him  to  do  as  much  with  the  first. 

I  shall  be  in  town  for  an  hour  or  two  (if  able)  and 
will  bring  your  volume  with  me,  and  leave  it  for  you 
at  Mr.  Smith's.  Go  and  see  Lady  William  Russell  again. 
She  is  worth  cultivating.  How  I  should  have  enjoyed, 
nay  how  /  should  now  enjoy  meeting  her,  and  you,  at 
such  a  place  as  Carlsbad.  But,  but,  farewell,  and  let  us 
see  you  on  one  of  these  two  proposed  days,  or  propose 
another.  It  must  not  be  Tuesday  the  second  of  June,  but 
I  know  of  no  other  day  tabooed.  Above  all  let  me  know 
your  determination  on  every  account.1 


Miss  Mary  Berry  to  Miss  Kate  Perry 

Curzon  Street,  November  io,  1846. 

Nothing  but  my  having  been  travelling  much  further 
downhill  than  you  have  been  doing  on  your  various 
Railways,  could  have  prevented  my  sooner  having 
thanked  you  for  the  most  entertaining  letter  I  ever  read, 
for  allowing  me  to  become  acquainted  with  all  the  mara- 
vigli  and  memorabili  of  Alton  Towers  without  going 
through,  the  initiation  which  seems  to  be  little  less 
terrific  than  that  of  Free-Masonry.  I  once  was  at  Alton 
Towers,  long  ago  before  the  present  incumbents  came 
in  possession.     Nobody  was  living  in  the  House,  and  I 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  possession  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


430  BERRY    PAPERS 

saw  only  the  Gardens,  which  certainty  anticipated  the 
House  they  were  tutelary  to,  for  such  extraordinary 
combination  of  all  sorts  of  styles  and  of  tastes  I  never 
beheld.  How  I  shall  like  to  talk  all  this  over  with  you  ! 
but  alas  nullum  tempus  occurrit  to  you,  any  more  than 
to  kings  when  once  you  get  into  your  far  west,  while  I 
have  certainly  no  time  to  lose.  We  have  not  made  our 
annual  visit  to  Tittenhanger  this  month,  for  while  we 
were  leaving  the  county  our  dear  Lady  Hardwicke  was 
in  bed  with  one  of  her  bad  colds — Lady  Caledon  ditto, 
and  we  thought  ourselves  much  too  little  well  to  add 
to  such  a  house.  Lady  Char.  Lindsay  was  already  there, 
and  was  rewarded  by  the  company  of  my  Lord  and 
Lady  Pollington  who  dear  Lady  Hardwicke  had  invited 
to  come  together  to  Grandmama's  by  way  of  stopping 
the  reports  of  immediate  separation  and  Divorce.  This, 
I  believe,  was  never  intended  for  the  Polly,  but  the  Dolly 
is  supposed  to  be  past  saving  and  not  worth  it.  She  is 
at  her  father's  House  and  all  the  Norfolk  folks  seeing 
her  there  you  should  spot  the  Pollington  scandal  away. 

I  have  written  too  many  lines  on  this  worthless 
subject,  for  I  am  little  able  for  writing  to-day,  having 
had  a  bad  attack  of  palpitation  yesterday,  which  pain 
leaves  me  more  [dead]  than  alive  the  next  day.  There 
are  lots  of  people  in  town,  we  could  have  a  charming 
little  quiet  society,  but  we  have  both  been  too  unwell 
ever  since  we  came  to  town  on  the  31st  not  to  be 
obliged  to  deprive  ourselves  of  what  certainly  would  be 
of  all  things  the  best  for  me,  when  one  has  the  strength 
to  take  the  medicine — I  mean  the  society  of  those  one 
likes.  Lady  Char.  Lindsay  returns  to  us  from  Titten- 
hanger to-day,  and  as  she  has  taken  us  for  better  or  for 
worse,  no  apology  is  necessary  for  finding  us  in  bad 
repair.  I  hope  to  plaster  myself  up  in  the  interim  of 
my  attacks  to  be  still  equal  to  show,  for  a  couple  of 
hours  or  so  of  an  evening,  and  some  morning  soon  to 
be  able  to  write  you  a  less  dolorous  letter,  and  offer 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     431 

you  somewhat  less  worthless  thanks  than  those  for  all 
your  kindness  to  your  gratefully  affectionate. 

PS. — How  can  I  put  in  a  P.S.  my  thanks  and  my 
delight  with  your  miniature  of  Charlotte  Canning.  It  is 
admirably  like.  I  would  be  sworn  more  like  Charlotte 
than  what  it  was  done  from,  and  sure  you  cannot  think 
any  apology  necessary  for  the  execution  !  It  is  clear 
and  admirable.     God  bless  you  for  it.1 


Mrs.  Austin  to  Mary  Berry 

Rochefort  dans  les  Ardennes,  September  18,  1847. 

Dearest  Madam, — I  constantly  catch  myself  think- 
ing how  I  should  like  to  tell  this  or  that  to  Miss  Berry  ! 
What  would  Miss  Berry  say  to  such  an  incident  ?  and 
so  on.  Meanwhile  time  rolls  on,  and  I  do  not  see  you, 
dear  Madam,  and  all  my  longings  for  a  conversation 
about  France  are  unfulfilled,  and  my  projects, — 
dreams.  Among  the  other  peculiarities  of  Paris  which 
I  would  fain  have  you  help  to  analyze,  is  its  faculty  de 
devorer  la  vie!  I  know  not  why,  but  nowhere  did  I 
ever  find  time  turn  to  so  little  account.  Is  this  the 
result  of  external  or  of  internal  influences  ?  or  of  both  ? 
I  think  the  latter.  One  is  more  interrupted,  and  one 
finds  it  more  difficult  to  regagner  son  assiette ;  to  be 
tranquil  and  assiduous.  This,  at  least,  is  its  effect  on 
me,  and  the  little  I  do  is  one  cause  of  my  unsatisfaction 
with  my  place  of  abode.  I  am  become  a  wretched 
correspondent,  or  I  should  long  ago  have  indulged 
myself  in  writing  to  you.  The  idea  that  it  might  be 
in  my  power  to  afford  you  the  least  amusement  and 
pleasure  is  most  tempting  and  flattering  to  me,  or 
nothing  but  a  constant  sense  of  ineffectual  hurry  has 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  possession  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


432  BERRY    PAPERS 

prevented   my   sending   you   a   budget   of   gossip   now 
and  then. 

Above  all  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  of  our  dear  Madame 
Recamier — her  blindness,  her  irreparable  loss  in  the 
death  of  the  most  excellent  Ballanche — all  the  clouds 
that  gather  round  the  setting  of  that  brilliant  sun.  The 
death  of  Ballanche  struck  all  who  knew  him  with  con- 
sternation. You  know  perhaps,  his  lifelong  devotion  to 
her.  You  know,  what  these  friendships  are  in  France  ; 
they  reconcile  one — almost — to  a  state  of  society  so  full 
of  vice.  This  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all, 
Ballanche  was  her  concitoyen — a  printer  at  Lyons.  From 
the  moment  he  saw  her,  he  gave  his  life  to  her — and 
without  the  least  pretension  to  any  other  character 
than  that  of  a  devoted  friend.  He  sold  his  business, 
took  a  lodging  opposite  to  the  Abbaye  aux  Bois  and 
lived  for  her  service.  Since  she  was  blind  he  wrote  her 
letters,  transacted  her  business,  received  people  whom 
she  did  not  wish  to  see,  was  entirely  at  her  disposal, — 
I  never  went  that  I  did  not  find  him,  and  he  filled  every 
gap ;  he  could  even  help  to  soothe  the  fretfulness  of 
M.  de  Chateaubriand.  To  me  personally  he  was  most 
kind,  I  may  say  affectionate,  and  he  had  inspired  me 
with  great  affection.  You  may  think  how  I  dreaded  to 
see  her  after  such  a  calamity.  I  went  one  evening — the 
servant  said  she  was  ill,  had  her  complaint  in  the  throat, 
and  could  not  speak,  but  wished  to  see  me.  I  went  in, 
and  never  shall  I  forget  seeing  the  sweet  woman,  sitting 
in  her  fauteuil  like  a  statue  ;  alone,  blind,  ill,  sleepless, 
and  sad.  I  sat  down  on  a  little  seat  at  her  feet,  took 
her  hand  and  kissed  it  ;  and  so  we  sat — when  I  made 
any  motion  to  go,  she  pressed  my  hand  and  held  me. 
Soon  after,  young  Ampere  r  came  in,  and  I  could  talk  to 
him,  and  indulge  myself  in  a  gush  of  tears  in  the  ante- 

1  Jean  Jacques  Ampere  (i  800-1 864),  philologer,  elected  to  the  French 
Academy  in  1846,  partly  by  the  exercise  of  the  influence  of  Madame 
Recamier. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     433 

chamber  sitting  under  the  portrait  of  her  lovely  self. 
And  now  think  of  Ampere — himself  ill  and  ordered  to  the 
Pyrenees — nay,  his  place  taken  to  go  with  Cousin  (?)  I 
said,  *  But  you  cannot  go  ?  "  "Ah,"  said  he  with  a  smile, 
"  Je  n'y  pense  plus.  Mais  elle,  voyez  la — dans  quel  etat  elle 
est!"  Is  it  not  admirable?  and  what  is  it  in  England 
that  prevents  the  formation  or  the  demonstration  of 
such  friendships  as  these  ?  People  are  friendly  and  wish 
you  well — perhaps  even  will  make  an  occasional  effort  or 
sacrifice  for  you — but  who  binds  his  whole  existence 
with  yours  in  this  way  ?  Is  this  the  result  of  the  loose- 
ness of  the  conjugal  relation  ?  Perhaps  so — and  if  so 
we  will  not  regret  it.  But  I  don't  see  that  it  necessarily 
follows.     Everybody  has  not  a  husband  or  a  wife. 

Since  I  left  I  have  heard  that  Madame  Recamier  has 
been  in  the  country,  is  better,  and  her  sight  rather  so. 
You  heard  perhaps  that  she  had  been  couched ;  the 
result  did  not  appear  very  satisfactory — but  I  believe 
something  is  gained. 

I;  had  a  letter  to-day  from  Csse  Baudrand,  wife  of 
the  Governor  of  the  Comte  de  Paris — an  Englishwoman. 
She  tells  me  the  Queen  is  very  indignant  at  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Duchesse  de  Praslin's  letters.  A  man  whom 
she  and  I  know  called  on  the  Queen  the  other  day  and 
found  her  burning  papers.  She  said  she  saw  that  if  she 
were  to  perish  in  some  bloody  commotion,  all  her  letters 
would  be  published.  I  don't  know  what  is  thought  of 
this  in  England.  It  appeared  to  me  extremely  revolting 
to  English  notions  of  justice.  That  Madame  (illegible) 
should  publish  them  I  could  just  conceive — (seeing  what 
a  pass  people  are  come  to  in  courting  publicity)  ;  but 
that  the  chief  officer  of  justice  should  think  fit  to  put 
forth  all  that  ex  parte  matter  over  the  grave  of  the 
accused,  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  monstrous  appear- 
ances in  the  whole  monstrous  affair.  The  remarks 
current  in  Paris  are  characteristic  "  Pourquoi  aime-t-elle 
un  homme  pareil?"     ''Pourquoi  ne  lui  tenait  elle  pastite 

2  E 


434  BERRY    PAPERS 

par  une  conduite  setnblable  ?"  u  Elle  e'tait  fatigante  et 
embetante  avec  des  jalousies."  "  Les  lettres  sont  ennuyeuses 
et  accusent  un  esprit  nourri  de  rotnans."  [This  latter 
remark  I  must  say,  I  think  just  enough.]  I  suppose 
you  know  more  about  this  horrid  affair  than  we  in  our 
fresh  and  pure  solitude. — I  cannot  understand  it. — I  used 
to  write  in  my  copy  book  "Nemo  repentefuit  turpissimus;" 
— and  M.  de  Praslin  passed  for  an  honorable  man. 
What  is  certain  is,  that  he  could  have  drowned  her  in 
one  of  the  deep  canals  of  Praslin,  without  risk  of  detec- 
tion if  he  had  really  meditated  this  crime  even  two  days 
before.  Mdlle.  de  Luzy  a  fait  ses  affaires.  She  lives  to 
enjoy  a  pension  from  the  murderer,  and  one  from  the 
murdered,  and  may  amuse  herself  when  she  will.  The 
Elliots  must  have  some  notion  what  to  think  of  her. 
That  again  is  all  unintelligible.  So  are  many  things 
in  that  vast  cauldron  of  seething  corruption.  We  dined 
two  days  at  the  Chateau  of  a  most  respectable  Seigneur 
of  these  parts.  He  told  me  he  had  lived  in  great 
intimacy  with  Mr.  Leste  for  a  long  time  and  thought 
him  a  model  of  virtue  and  probity !  Can  people  fall 
into  crime  as  down  a  precipice  ?     It  is  fearful  to  think  it. 

Altogether  there  is  something  alarming  in  the  state 
of  Paris — and  everybody  seems  to  feel  it — sinister 
rumours  and  presentiments  are  in  the  air,  and  my  most 
respected  friends  seem  dejected  and  oppressed.  There 
is  one  who  has  lost  more,  much  more  than  his  gaiety  in 
this  mephitic  atmosphere — his  high  and  pure  reputation 
— at  least  to  a  considerable  degree.  You  may  imagine 
what  a  grief  this  is  and  has  been  to  me,  who  know  how 
much  there  is  noble  and  good  and  kind  in  his  nature, 
and  who  see  him  as  a  son,  a  father,  and  a  friend,  still  so 
admirable,  so  engaging.  But  he  is  between  two  bad 
influences  and  can  wholly  resist  neither. 

Pray  did  you  ever  know  a  lady  who  is  now  a 
sort  of  a  specimen  of  a  bygone  world  ?  the  Marquise 
d'Aguesseau  ?     She   lived  in  England  for  a  long  time 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     435 

during  the  emigration,  and  had  a  daughter  to  whom 
M.  d'Aguesseau  never  made  the  slightest  pretention. 
The  father  was  an  English  nobleman.  Who  ?  Her 
name  is  Mme.  de  Freuilleville,  a  woman  of  great  esprit, 
wit  and  information.  She  lives  with  Mme.  d'Aguesseau. 
The  old  lady's  conversation  is  very  curious — it  is  that  of 
a  real  Marquese  of  85 — tres  teste. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  an  entire  wreck. — His  legs 
have  entirely  failed  him. — This  would  be  nothing,  but  he 
is  profoundly  disgusted  with  the  world  and  with  life. 
Nothing  less  than  Madame  Recamier's  sweetness  could 
endure  his  fretful  and  morose  state.  I  know  of  no  one 
else  you  will  wish  to  hear  of.  We  are  in  the  wildest  and 
most  tranquil  solitude  with  my  dear  children,  who  are 
so  well  and  happy  with  no  society  but  ours,  that  I  am 
more  content  than  I  have  words  to  express.  They  will 
tell  you  about  it  hereafter. 

I  wish  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  any  who  think  of 
me.  Lucy  sends  her  best  regards.  My  intention  is  to 
visit  London  next  Spring,  for  I  feel  that  I  have  been  too 
long  away.  One  of  my  most  earnest  wishes,  dear  Miss 
Berry,  is,  that  I  may  find  you,  Miss  Agnes,  and  Lady 
Charlotte  Lindsay  well  and  disposed  to  receive  the  exiles 
with  your  usual  kindness.  I  will  not  add  another  cross 
word,  except  that  I  am  ever  your  very  grateful  and 
affectionate, 

S.  Austin.1 


Letter  from  Stratford  Canning 2  to  Mary  Berry 

Berlin,  April  \\,  1848. 

My  dear  Miss  Berry, — Sovereigns  and  their 
kingdoms  are  tumbling  about  in  so  strange  a  manner 
that  a  correspondent  who  announces  anything  short  of  a 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  242. 

1  Stratford  Canning  (1786-1880),  diplomatist,  created  Viscount  Stratford 
de  Redcliffe,  1852. 


436  BERRY    PAPERS 

revolution  or  an  earthquake  has  little  chance  of  a 
welcome. 

Now,  as  we  arrived  here  after  the  barricades,  and 
have  not  yet  reached  any  land  of  volcanic  explosions,  it 
requires  no  small  [effort]  to  challenge  the  attention  of 
Curzon  Street  or  Petersham,  as  the  case  may  be.  We 
nevertheless  take  courage  from  recollections  of  past 
indulgences,  and  stoutly  resolve  on  paying  our  compli- 
ments without  more  ado. 

We  have  been  here  a  whole  fortnight  without  mean- 
ing it,  and  are  now  going  on  to  Dresden  and  Vienna. 
The  railways  are  good,  the  trees  are  coming  into  leaf, 
and  the  weather  is  improving  daily.  Though  Society 
has  been  sadly  cut  up  by  the  late  events,  we  have  had 
our  share  of  sober  amusements  and  found  much  to 
gratify  a  sedate  curiosity  wherever  we  have  stopped. 
The  king,  having  more  leisure  as  a  constitutional 
monarch,  has  kindly  shown  us  the  well-known  wonders 
of  Potsdam.  We  have  chatted  with  Humboldt,  and 
made  acquaintance  with  Rauch  over,  or  rather  under, 
his  marvellously  beautiful  statue  of  Frederick  the  Great. 
We  have  also  laughed  most  cordially  at  the  awkward 
figures  of  the  Burghers  and  students  keeping  guard  with 
huge  muskets  and  sabres  at  the  doors  of  the  Royal 
Palace  and  other  public  buildings.  Though  the  troops 
have  returned  to  Berlin,  they  are  either  confined  to  their 
barracks,  or  only  appear  in  the  streets  like  stragglers, 
without  fire-arms  or  side  arms.  Prince  Adam 
Czartorynski,  and  Madame  de  Sarzans  are  here,  the 
former  looking  out  for  a  Polish  crown,  the  latter  sigh- 
ing over  the  disturbed  state  of  Silesia.  It  makes 
one  melancholy  to  hear  the  lamentations  on  every 
side,  ladies  and  gentlemen  pining  in  seclusion  from 
operas  and  Parties,  shopkeepers  in  despair  at  the  want 
of  their  custom.  One  cheerful  sight  appeared  to-day  in 
the  shape  of  a  procession  of  workmen  going  to  thank 
their  employers  for  raising  their  wages  and  diminishing 


fcfj/4 


/0S0 


LETTER    FROM    MARY    BERRY   TO   CHARLES   DRUMMOND 

3RD  JULY,    1850 

Fro///  the  original  in  the  Collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     437 

their  hours  of  labour. — I  hope  you  have  not  been 
alarmed  by  any  monster  meetings  or  other  demonstra- 
tions of  mob  powers.  We  are  too  much  at  the  mercy  of 
the  newspapers  not  to  be  frightened  by  their  terrific 
warnings  of  preparation.  You  can  hardly  be  in  the 
country :  but  wherever  you  may  be,  our  best  wishes 
attend  upon  you.  Lady  C.  will  write  to  you  from 
Vienna,  and  we  hope  that  you  will  in  due  season  give  us 
as  good  an  account  of  your  health,  as  we,  thank  God ! 
can  give  you  of  ours. — Ever,  my  dear  Miss  Berry,  Yours 
most  faithfully, 

Stratford  Canning.1 


Agnes  Berry  to  Kate  Perry 

Richmond,  Sunday,  July  29,  1849. 

My  dear  Miss  Perry, — I  long  to  have  a  word  from 
you  that  we  may  look  forward  to  having  you  an  inmate 
here,  which  we  count  upon  with  much  pleasure,  and 
that  you  will  tell  us  what  your  yachters  are  about.  I 
hope  the  storm  that  has  alarmed  all  London  has  neither 
reached  them,  nor  you  at  Brighton.  It  was  bad  enough 
here,  but  nothing  like  the  accounts  and  damage  done  in 
London.  I  have  little  to  tell  you  about  ourselves,  but 
that  we  have  had  a  good  many  farewell  visits  and  fare- 
well dinners,  which  will  leave  us  much  more  quiet. 
Moreover  we  have  just  had  our  Petersham  Marriage, 
with  all  its  forms  and  ceremonies,  a  breakfast  of  about 
80  people,  10  Bridesmaids,  healths  drank  and  speeches 
made,  and  the  Bride  and  the  little  ugly  bridegroom  in  the 
middle  of  it  all !  in  my  mind  very  bad  taste  for  such  a 
marriage  !  !  For  our  dear  Lady  Scott's  sake  we  are  very 
glad  that  it  is  over. 

I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  confirm  the  good  accounts 
you  gave  of  your  own  improving  health.     Of  our  own,  I 

1  Add.  MSS.  37726,  f.  246. 


438  BERRY    PAPERS 

have  little  to  say,  it  would  be  very  unreasonable  to 
expect  health  and  strength  at  our  age  !  But  still  we  are 
much  as  usual,  and  shall  be  very  much  the  better  for  you 
when  you  can  come  to  us.  You  must  forgive  this  scrap 
of  a  letter,  for  I  find  my  stupid  head  very  disagreeably 
affected  by  much  writing. — Ever  most  affectionately 
yours,  A.  Berry.  x 

In  spite  of  their  great  age,  the  Berrys  still  held  their 
salon  at  No.  8  Curzon  Street,  and,  unlike  most  old 
people,  were  always  pleased  to  welcome  new  faces. 
One  of  the  latest  recruits  was  Thackeray,  after  he 
became  famous  as  the  author  of  Vanity  Fair.  At  first 
they  did  not  appreciate  him,  but  within  a  short  time 
they  came  to  love  him ;  and  when  they  were  arranging 
a  little  dinner,  "We  must  have  Thackeray,"  they  would 
say.  "  It  is  at  one  of  these  dinners,"  Miss  Kate  Perry 
has  written,  "  that  Miss  Berry  astonished  us  all  by 
saying,  she  had  never  read  Jane  Austen's  novels  until 
lately,  when  someone  had  lent  them  to  her.  But  she 
could  not  get  on  with  them  ;  they  were  totally  unin- 
teresting to  her — long-drawn-out  details  of  very  ordinary 
people,  and  she  found  the  books  so  tedious  that  she 
could  not  understand  their  having  obtained  such  a 
celebrity  as  they  had  done.  '  Thackeray  and  Balzac,' 
she  added  (Thackeray  being  present),  '  write  with  great 
minuteness,  but  do  so  with  a  brilliant  pen.'  Thackeray 
made  two  bows  of  gratitude  (one,  pointing  to  the 
ground,  for  Balzac.) " a  Miss  Kate  Perry,  who  had 
become  very  intimate  with  the  old  ladies,  is  the  principal 
authority  for  their  last  years.  "  Miss  Agnes  seemed 
more  failing  day  by  day ;  those  who  loved  them,  still 

1  From  the  original  letter  in  the  collection  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 
■  A  Collection  of  Letters  of  W.  M.  Thackeray. 


/ 


6' 6 


MARY    KERRY    AT   THE    AGE    OF   86 
From  the  Collection  oj  A.  M.  Broadley,  Esq. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF    THE    BERRYS     439 

assembled  in  the  little  drawing-room  to  try  and  maintain 
its  cheerfulness  of  old,  but  it  was  in  vain,  a  shadow  had 
fallen  over  the  bright  salon,  and  we  all  felt  these  charm- 
ing reunions  were  drawing  to  an  end,"  she  wrote  in  1849. 
"  We  knew  Miss  Agnes  could  not  be  long  with  us,  and 
Miss  Berry  felt  this  also,  and  when  alone  with  Jane  x 
and  me  continually  spoke  about  her,  but  more  as  she 
remembered  her  in  her  youth — the  pretty  charming  girl 
with  whom  Gustavus  Adolphus  danced  at  one  of  his 
court  balls  and  was  admired  and  envied  by  the  other 
ladies  present.  She  not  only  dwelt  on  her  prettiness, 
but  her  graciousness  and  simplicity  of  manner,  her 
talent  for  drawing,  and  of  her  delightful  disposition,  but 
then  (with  a  touch  of  that  self-estimation  which  belonged 
to  her  character)  added,  '  But  she  had  not  my  intel- 
lectual powers,  she  could  not  reason  so  well ; '  then 
perhaps  feeling  that  these  qualified  remarks  were  un- 
kindly, continued,  'But  then  she  had  every  charm  a 
woman  ought  to  possess.'  '  I  can  never  forget,'  she 
said  with  emotion,  'her  loveable  expression  when  she 
threw  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  said,  "  Oh,  Mary,  the 
only  shadow  to  my  happiness  in  marrying  Robert 
Ferguson  is  leaving  you." '  Then  Miss  Berry's  voice 
faltered,  recalling,  no  doubt,  her  own  disappointment 
in  love  as  well  as  her  sister's.  '  But  it  was  destined  that 
we  should  never  be  separated  in  life,  oh !  now  this 
parting  is  very  terrible,  after  nearly  ninety  years  of 
happy  communion  together ;  but  it  will  not  be  for 
long,  she  has  only  gone  one  stage  before  me.'  She 
ceased  speaking,  suddenly  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears, 

1  Jane  Octavia,  daughter  of  Sir  Charles  Elton,  of  Cliveden  Court,  Somer- 
setshire, and  wife  of  the  Rev.  William  Henry  Brookfield,  the  friend  of 
Thackeray,  Tennyson,  and  Hallam. 


44Q  BERRY    PAPERS 

the  first  I  had  ever  seen  her  shed,  but  the  brave  old  lady 
tried  to  conceal  them,  and  after  a  few  moments  spoke 
on  some  indifferent  subject."  x 

Agnes  Berry  survived  until  January  1852,  and  showed 
herself  as  unselfish  in  her  last  illness  as  she  had  been 
during  her  life.  "  She  begged  her  friends  to  come  as 
usual  in  the  evening,  '  it  was  less  dull  for  poor  Mary,' 
she  said,"  Miss  Perry  has  put  on  record.  "  She  retained 
her  senses  till  almost  the  end.  The  last  evening  of  her 
life  I  was  with  her  she  asked  me  who  was  below.  I 
mentioned  the  one  or  two  ladies  who  were  with  Miss 
Berry,  and  Mr.  Kinglake,  I  said,  "who  has  come  to 
enquire  after  you."  '  Go  down,  my  dear,'  she  replied, 
1  and  give  my  love  to  them  all,  and  tell  my  dear  friend 
Eothen  (as  she  always  called  Mr.  Kinglake)  not  to  be 
anxious  about  me.  1  have  no  suffering,  and  am  very 
happy ;  do  not  let  any  one  be  sad  ;  I  daresay  I  shall 
soon  be  amongst  you  all  again.  God  bless  you.'  She 
kissed  me  and  soon  fell  asleep ;  I  went  down  and 
brought  up  her  sister,  who  sat  down  by  her  side,  and 
we  watched  her  through  the  night,  but  she  never  woke 
again.  In  the  early  morning  her  gentle  spirit  passed 
away  without  suffering ;  her  last  words  were  of  tender 
solicitude  for  others ;  as  her  life  was,  so  was  her 
death  !  " 2  Agnes  Berry  was  the  lesser  light  of  the  salon, 
her  sister  being  the  more  imposing  and  more  forceful 
spirit,  but  her  loss  was  greatly  felt  by  the  frequenters. 
"  After  a  time,"  Miss  Perry  has  informed  us,  "  the  light 
was  again  placed  in  the  window — the  signal  that  Miss 
Berry  could  receive  her  friends  again,  or,  as  the  saying 
is,  was  "  at  home."     The  world  gathered  round  her,  but 

1  Reminiscences  of  a  London  Drawing-room,  p.  11. 
*  Ibid.,  p.  12. 


THE    LATER    LIFE    OF   THE    BERRYS     441 

the  light  within  burnt  dimly  to  the  friends  of  former 
days,  the  gaiety  and  spirit  of  the  salon  seemed  quenched, 
though  Miss  Berry  was  supposed  to  be  the  ostensible 
attraction  of  it ;  yet  now  that  the  kind  sister  was  gone, 
we  all  knew  that  it  was  the  union  of  the  two  sisters 
which  formed  the  peculiar  charm  of  these  evenings  in 
Curzon  Street  ;  perhaps  Miss  Agnes's  self-abnegation 
made  her  influence  less  recognised  in  her  lifetime  than 
felt  when  we  had  lost  her." 1  Mary  Berry  did  not  long 
survive  her  sister,  and  on  November  10  she  passed  away. 
Dean  Milman,  who  had  preached  at  the  funeral  of  the 
younger,  preached  also  at  the  funeral  of  the  elder  sister. 
The  same  grave  at  Petersham  holds  the  mortal  remains 
of  those  who  had  lived  together  for  so  many  years,  and 
one  tombstone,  upon  which  is  inscribed  an  epitaph 
written  by  Lord  Carlisle,  serves  as  their  memorial. 

1  Reminiscences  of  a  London  Drawing-room,  p.  12. 


442  BERRY  PAPERS 


MARY  BERRY 

BORN   MARCH    1 763,   DIED   NOV.    1852. 

AGNES   BERRY 

BORN   MAY    1764,   DIED  JAN.    1 852. 

BENEATH   THIS   STONE   ARE   LAID   THE   REMAINS   OF 

THESE 

TWO  SISTERS, 

AMIDST  SCENES   WHICH   IN   LIFE 

THEY  HAD   FREQUENTED  AND   LOVED, 

FOLLOWED   BY  THE  TENDER   REGRET  OF  THOSE 

WHO   CLOSE 

THE  UNBROKEN   SUCCESSION   OF  FRIENDS 

DEVOTED  TO  THEM   WITH    FOND   AFFECTION 

DURING   EVERY  STEP 

OF  THEIR   LONG  CAREER 

In  pious  adoration  of  the  great  God  of  Heaven  and  Earth 

they  looked  to  rest  in  the  Lord. 

They  were  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  in  their 

death  they  were  not  divided.  x 

1  Cobbett,  Memorials  of  Twickenham,  p.  333. 


INDEX 


Abercorn,  Lord,  224,  266,  288 

Abercromby,  Sir  R. ,  173 

Aberdeen,  Lord,  299 

Abraham,  Robt. ,  201 

Accident  to  carriage,  81 

Adair,  Mr.,  213 

Addington,  H.,  260 

African  Corps,  135 

Aga,  325 

Alfieri,  49,  63,  77 

Althorp,  212,  215 

Alvanley,  Lord,  289 

Amiens,  Treaty  of,  235 

Ampere,  J.  J.,  432 

Amsinck,  Paul,  290 

Andalusia,  48 

Andover,  Lady,  242 

Andreossi,  Gen.,  211,  213,  225,  269 

Archery,  59 

Argyle,  Duke  of,  19 

Athalie,  352,  353 

Austin,  Mrs.,  428,  431 

Austin  friars,  8 

Avare  L\  344 

Avocat  Pate lin ,  325 

Avoronzow,  Gen.,  386 

Aylesbury,  Lady,  19,  198,  216 

Bacon, John,  19 
Baillie,  Dr.,  356 

—  Joanna,  200,  202,  323 
Balzac,  438 

Banks,  Sir  J.,  257 
Barnes,  Mr.,  183,  184,  187 
Barry  more,  208 
Beauclerk,  Lady  D.,  14 
Beckford,  Miss,  289,  290 

—  Willm.,  419 
Bellasyse,  Lord  C.,  193 
Bellingham,  John,  305 
Bennet,  actor,  327 

Berry,  A.,  birth  of,  6  et passim 

—  Rev.  E.  J.,  394 

—  M. ,  birth  of,  6  et  passim 

—  Robt.,  5 ;  death  of,  387  et  passim 

—  William,  5,  7,  8,  10 
Berthier,  205 

Bessborough,  Earl  of,  213 
Billington,  Mrs.,  225 
Black,  Capt. ,  270 


Blanquir,  342 
Blue  Stocking  Coterie,  200 
Bobinet  the  bandit,  327 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  330 
Both  well  Castle,  289 
Boulogne,  35 
Bowman,  Mr.,  10,  134 
Boyd,  Sir  Robt.,  135 
Boyer,  Gen.,  321,  328 
Boyle,  Miss,  64 
Bremen,  280 

Bridgewater,    Duke    of,    237,    242, 
252 

—  Navigation,  243 
Bristol,  Lady,  28 
Britannicus ,  323 
British  Museum,  19 
British  Synonymy,  123 
Broadstairs,  121,  125 
Brocket  Hall,  67,  92,  103 
Brookfield,  Mrs.,  439 
Brooks's,  212 

Brots,  Miss,  303 
Brougham,  Lord,  288 
Broughton,  Thos.,  228 
Bruce,  Lady  M.,  19 

—  Michael,  320,  321,  363 
Buccleuch,  Duke  of,  19,  242 
Buckingham  House,  242 

Buller,  Mrs.,  37,  48,  49,  65,  77,  304 

Buonaparte,  Napoleon,  136-361  passim 

Burghersh,  Lady,  398 

Burke,  Edmd.,  35 

Burn,  Mr.,  68 

Burns,  Mrs. ,  222 

Bushey  Park,  241,  259 

Bute,  Countess  of,  118,  122,  123 

Butler,  Miss,  224 

Cadogan,  Lady,  59 
Cahir,  Lady,  224,  263,  316,  323 
Calais,  34,  35,  47 
Caledons,  The,  372 
Cambaceres  205 
Cambridge,  Rev.  G.  O.,  296 

—  Rd.  Owen,  33 

—  Miss,  32 

Camelford,  Lady,  251,  266,  274 
Campbells,  The,  50 
Campbell,  Lady  Anne,  50 


443 


444 


BERRY    PAPERS 


Campbell,  (Lady    Charlotte,    50-394 
passim 

—  Lady  Fredk. ,  50,  256 

—  Lord  Fredk.,  63,  218,  289 
Canning,  Stratford,  333,  435 
Captains  of  packet  boats,  35 
Carlisle,  Earl  of,  213,  300,  426,  441 
Carlyles,  The,  288 

Catwell,  Miss,  67,  68        * 
Cavendish,  Lady  George,  213 

—  Lady  Harriet,  266 
Caversham,  10 
Cayleys,  The,  105 
Cay  ley,  Sir  Geo.,  10 

—  Lady,  10 

—  Miss,  411 

—  Phil.,  424 
Ceracchi,  19 

Chambre  des  Deputes,  339,  341 

Champ  de  Mars,  345 

Charlemonts,  The,  288,  303 

Charlotte  Augusta,  Princess,  392 

Chatham,  Dowager  Lady,  251 

Chats  worth,  384 

Chef  des  Brigandes,  327 

Cheltenham,  120,  136 

Cherbourg,  114 

Cholmondeley,  Mrs.,  27-282 passim 

Church  ceremonies,  55 

Churchill,  Lady  M. ,  48 

Cicero,  38 

Clairon,  Mdme.,  227 

Clermonts,  The,  213 

Clive,  Kitty,  88 

—  H.  Walpole's  lines  on,  89 
Cliveden,  41,  62,  75,  80,  88,  160 
Coborne,  Mr.,  212 
Colchester,  Lord,  399 
Coldstream  Guards,  135 
College  House,  9 

Colman,  Geo.,  112 

Combbanke,  219 

Combe,  Wm„  43,  44,  58,  59,  116 

Combermeres,  324 

Comedy,  French,  331 

Comparative  view  of  Social  Life,  406 

Conde\  Prince  of,  372 

Conetant,  M.,  355 

Conolly,  Mr. ,  267 

Conway  family,  18,  135, 196 

—  Anne  S. ,  19 

—  H.  S.,  19,  no,  128 
Copeland,  175 
Coquette  Congie,  364 
Coralli,  M.  and  Mdme.,  214 
Cork,  Lady,  245 

—  Lord,  212 
Cornelys,  Mrs.,  203 
Cornwallis,  Lord,  135 
Cos  way,  R. ,  29,  36 
Coutat,  Mdlle.,  330 

Coutts,  bankers,  223,  247,  328,  358 


Coventry,  Earl  of,  269 

Cowper,  Lord,  205 

Crauford  family,  7,  n,  38,  212,  267 

—  J  as. ,  211 

Crispin,  rival  de  son  mattre,  344 
Croft,  Sir  Rd.,  392 
Cruikshank,  19 
Curzon  Street,  287,  402 
Cuxhaven, 280 

Damer,  Geo.,  20 

—  John, 20 

—  Lionel,  20 

—  Mrs.,  T9-408,  letters  passim. 
Dawson,  Geo. ,  316,  327 

Day,  Mrs.,  48 

D'Albany,   Comtesse,  29,  36,  48, '49, 

63.  67.  397 
D'Aremberg,  Prince  Aug.,  380 
De  Bennay,  M.,  335 
De  Borsquelin,  Cte. ,  339 
De  Boufflers,  Chev.,  26,  365 
De  Cambis,  71,  73,  77,  79,  82 
De  Coigny,  A.,  317,  337,  339,  351,  375 
De  Courlande,  Duchesse,  324 
D'Escars,  Dchsse. ,  353 
De  Goutant,  Mdme. ,  227,  346 
De  Grammont,  Mdme.,  214,  237 

—  Mdlle.,  214 

De  Kergolay,  Florian,  333 

De  la  Fayette,  Marquis,  206 

De  la  Tourdupin,  Mdme.,  344 

De  Louvois,  Mdme.,  345 

De  Lowgas,  M. ,  265 

De  Man  tenon,  Mdme.,  374 

De  Merepoix,  Mdme.,  76 

De  Neuville,  M.,  352 

De  Noailles,  Comte  Alexis,  332 

D'  Orglandes,  Mme. ,  344,  345 

De  R6ny,  D'chesse,  346 

De  Richelieu,  Due  de,  326,  329,  331, 

35  r,  365 
De  Stael,  Mme.,  206 
De  Staremberg,  Mme.,  220-288 passim 
De  Sylva ,  Mme. ,  39 
De  Vaudement,  Dchsse. ,  326, 337,  339, 

36l>  363 
Defence  of  Berwick,  in 
Derby,  Lady,  282 
Despard,  Col. ,  228 
Devonshire,  Duke  of,  209,  257 
Devonshire  House,  289 
Donegal,  Lady,  288,  289,  290 
Dorimant,  138 
Douglas,  Marquis  of,  205,  289,  308 

—  Lady,  198,  212,  259,  267,  273,  308 
Dover,  35 

—  Lord,  408 
Doyleys,  The,  118 
Dragoons,  Third,  134 
Drummond,  Sir  W. ,  299 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  208 


INDEX 


445 


Drury,  Miss,  10 

Du  Camp,  Miss,  208 

Duchenois,  Mdlle. ,  325 

Du  Deffand,  Mdme.,  9,  295,  297,  335 

Dudley,  Lord,  300 

Duncannon,  Lady,  42 

Dundas,  Gen.  David,  252 

Dunmores,  The,  289 

Dutch  vessels,  82,  87 

Eastbourne,  209 
Edgeworth,  Maria,  349 
Edinburgh  Review,  410 
Egerton,  Gen.,  243 
Eglise  de  l'Oratoire,  1",  361 
Ellen  boroughs,  The,  303 
Ellis,  Mrs. ,  223 
Englefield,  Sir  H.,  290 

—  Lady,  164 
Erinnys,  Statue  of,  36,  51 
Erskine,  Lord,  288,  290 
Esterhazy,  Prince,  373,  377,  380 

Falstaff,  214 

Farquhar,  Sir  W. ,  209 

Farren,  Miss,  19 

Fashionable  Friends,  119,  200,  208 

Fawkener,  Sir  Everard,  92 

—  W.  A.,  92,  104 
Fazakerley,  T.  N. ,  387 
Felpham,  67,  76 
Ferguson,  Robt. ,  287,  393,  410 

—  senior,  4,  5,  6,  7,  10 
Fielding,  Sir  John,  203 
Figaro,  337 

Fitzgerald,  Lady  Hy. ,  64 
Fitzwilliam,  Lord,  274 
Fleury,  324 

Florence,  n,  12,  23,  72 

Florian,  325,  336 

Fontainebleau,  332 

Ford,  Sir  R. ,  230 

Fordyce,  Dr.,  25,  26,  55 

Foster,  Lady  E.,  27 

Fouche\  205 

Fox,  C.  J.,  253,  274,  275,  280 

France,  Peace  with  in  1801,  204 

—  War  recommenced  with,  269 
Francis,  John,  228 

Francis  Joseph  II,  12 
Francis,  Miss,  247,  248,  258 

—  Sir  Philip,  288 
Fraser's  Magazine,  289 
Fre"geville,  352,  362 
Fregonville,  263,  264 
French  politics,  48 

—  Royal  Family,  46 

Galitzin,  Princess,  373,  378,  380 
Garde  Royale,  345 
Garrick,  19 
Gell,  SirW.,288 


Genoa,  382 

George  III,  indisposition  of,  298 

—  Statue  of,  45 

George,  Mile.,  323,  325,  353 
Gerard,  364 
Gerbini,  Signora,  214 
Germany,  travelling  in,  79 
Giardini,  28 
Gibbs,  Agnes,  341 
Gibraltar,  135-178  passim 
Glenbervie,  Lady,  384 
Gloucester,  Duke  of,  11 
Godalming,  126 
Goodwood,  22,  66,  68,  157,  159 
Gordon,  Duchess  of,  225 
Goree,  135 

Gothic  architecture,  85 
Gower,  Lord,  237,  243,  252 
Grafton  Street,  199 
Graham,  Arthur,  228 

—  Sir  jas.,  12 
Grammont,  214 
Granada,  27 
Granby,  135,  177 
Gray,  19 
Greathead,  B. ,  125,  193 

—  family,  121,  125,  260,  289 
Greek,  study  of,  31,  34 
Greenough,  G.  B.,  419 
Greffulhes,  316,  317,  327,  338 
Grenville,  253 

Greville,  C. ,  252 

—  Lady  Charlotte,  214 

—  Mrs.  H.,  224 
Grey,  Chs. ,  258 

Grippe,  La,  230,  236,  244,  245,  248 
Guernsey,  114,  115 
Guy's  Cliffe,  193,  289 

Hake,  Mrs.,  68 

Hallam,  A.  H.,  411 

Hamburg,  280 

Hamilton,  Lady  Harriet,  237,  250,  266 

—  Lady  Anne,  289 

—  Miss,  51 

—  Capt.  Thos.,  177 

—  Sir  W.,  248,  252 

Hardwicke,  Lord  and  Lady,  288-327 

passim 
Harley,  Dr. ,  138 
Harrington,  Earl  of,  109 
Harrow,  215 
Harrowby,  Lady,  377 
Hartington,  Lord,  213,  223,  228,  235 
Hawkesbury,  Lord,  211 
Haymarket  Theatre,  30, 109,  27a 
Heathcote,  Lady,  289 
Hely- Hutchinson,  Capt.,  320,  363 
Herries,  Lady,  13 
Hervey,  Mrs.,  37,  53,  54, 121, 137, 143, 

146 
Highlanders,  74th,  136 


446 


BERRY    PAPERS 


Hill,  Wm.,  39! 

Holland,  u,  270 

Holyrood,  63 

Hood,  Lord,  136 

Hope,  Anastasius,  288,  290 

—  Thos.,  127,  290 

—  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  298,  299 
Hoper,  223,  247,  258,  284,  328,  357 
Hdtel  de  Bourbon,  87 

—  de  Caramany,  324 
Howard,  Mrs.,  242 
Howe,  John,  199 

—  Lord,  115,  120,  198 

—  Hon.  Mrs.,  198-254 passim 
Humboldt,  364 

Hume,  D. ,  19 

Hunter,  Dr.  John,  164,  165 

Indian  Establishment,  136 
Influenza.    See  La  Grippe 
Inverary,  50 
Italy,  11,  12 

Jablonowski,  Dchsse.,  361,  365 
Jackson,  Mrs.,  324 
Jacobin  mob,  199 
Jardin  des  Plantes,  363 
Jeffrey,  Lord,  410,  425 
Jennings,  Miss.  170,  176,  177 
Jemicere,  La  belle,  353 
Jerningham,  E. ,  26-278  passim 
Johnson,  Lady  Cecilia,  269 
Jordan,  Mrs.,  208 
Junot,  Gen.,  292 

Kauffmann,  Angelica,  19 
Keiths,  288 

Kirkbridge  (Stanwick),  9 
Kemble,  Chas. ,  208,  353 

—  Mrs. ,  224 

—  Stephen,  214 
Kensington  Palace,  291 
Kenyon,  Lloyd,  203 
Kergolays,  337,  338,  341 
Kevenhiiller  hat,  178 
King,  actor,  208 
Kinglake,  440 
Kingsgate,  121 
Kinnairds,  386 
Kinnaird,  Lady,  340 

Laboratory  at  Goodwood,  71 

Laine,  M. ,  355 

Lally.  338 

Lamb,  Lady  Caroline,  288 

—  Geo.,  224 

—  Hon.  P.,  224 

—  Mrs.  Wm.,  261 
Lane,  Edwd.,  303 
Lansdowne,  Lord,  91 
La  Place,  206 
Lauderdale,  Lord,  119,  120 


Lavay,  327 

Lawrence,  Sir  Thos.,  224,  288 

Le  Brun,  205 

Le  Clerc,  Miss,  65 

Legge,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  67,  68,  82 

Lenne,  M.,  351 

Lennox,  Col.  Chas.,  166 

—  Lady  Sarah,  20,  21 

—  Mr.,  127 

Leopold  of  Saxe-Coburg,  Prince,  392 
Leveson  Gower,  Lord  Francis,  237 

—  Geo.  Granville,  237 
Lewis,  Lady  T. ,  286 
Ligonier,  178 

Lindsay,  Lady  Charlotte,  224, 288,  403, 

406 
Linois,  Adml. ,  321 
Lisbon,  27,  68 
Listers,  Mr.,  279 
Liston,  327 
Livie,  31,  34,  51 
Lloyd,  Miss,  213,  225,  250 

—  Mrs. ,  224 

Locke,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  290,  298,  299, 

303 
Lockhart,  Mrs.,  120 
Long,  Chs. ,  251 
Longchamps,  360 
Longmans,  341,  406 
Losack,  Major,  320 
Louis  XVIII,  136 
Lucan,  38 

Luttrell,  Hy.,  205,  339,  351 
Luxembourg,  The,  136,  359,  360 
Lyttelton,  291 

Macaulay,  412 
Macdonald,  Sir  A.,  243 

—  E.,  205 

—  Lady  Louisa,  243 

—  Marechal,  351 
Maddocks,  208,  224 
Madrid,  30 

Malmesbury,  Lord,  137 
Malone,  Edmd.,  350 
Malvern,  198 

Mann,  Sir  H.,  12 

March,  Lord,  385 

Margate,  121 

Maria  Theresa,  Empress,  12 

Marie  Antoinette,  374 

Mars,  Mdlle.,  321,  327,  330,  331,  364, 

373 
Martin,  Mdme. ,  78 
Martins,  The,  208 
Mason,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  321,  330,  342 
Massena,  206 
Maubeuge,  386 
Mazurka,  386 
M6decin  malgre  lui,  323 
Melbourne,  Lady,  26,  256,  281 
Melville,  Visct. ,  120,  251 


INDEX 


447 


Mener,  Mr.,  322 
Merchant  of  Venice,  214 
Milman,  Dean,  441 
Milton,  Lord,  20,  143,  169 
Minden,  Battle  of,  135 
Mintos,  The,  288 
Misanthrope,  The,  373 
Mitchell  family,  10 
Moira,  Earl  of,  114,  115 
Montagu,  Mrs.,  295 
Montgomery,  Col. ,  250 
Montpelier,  12 

—  Row,  23 

Montrose,  Duchess  of,  288 
Moore,  Dr.,  222,  271 

—  Thos.,  288,  289 

Moreau,  M.  and  Mdme.,  225,  316,  317, 

3*9.  3*>,  338 
Morgan,  Gen.,  210 
Morpeth,  Lady  Geo.,  211 

—  Lady  Georgiana,  250 

Mount  Edgcumbe,  Lady,  45,  54,  65, 

146 
Muir,  119 

National  Assembly,  79 

New  South  Wales,  209 

Nice,  210 

Nicholas,  Grand  Duke,  384,  386 

Noble,  Percy,  92 

North    Audley    Street,   87,   122,   215, 

257,  402 
Notes  of  early  life,  4,  11 
Nugent,  Capt.,  in,  339,  342,  351 

O'Brien,  Lady  Susan,  20,  21 
O'Hara,  Gen.,  28,  i34-i89/a.m"»j 
Orange,  Prince  of,  386 
Orford,  Earl  of,  4  et passim;  death  of 

third  Earl,  90.    See  Walpole,  H. 
Ossian,  400 
Ossory,  Lady,  13,  105 
Ossulston,  Lord,  214 
Ostend,  47 

Paget,  Lady  C,  385 

Palmer,  119 

Palmerston,  Lord,  201 

Pantheon,  27,  31 

Paris,  12  et  passim 

Park  Place,  19-120  passim 

Passi,  388 

Paterson,  Mrs.,  378 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  425 

Pelham,  Lady,  245 

Pembroke,  Lady,  336 

Pepyses,  the,  360,  361 

Percival,  Spencer,  305 

Perregaux,  banker,  77,  282,  330 

Perry,  Miss,  194,  289,  429,  437 

Petty-Fitzmaurice,  Lord  Henry,  205 

Philosophe  sans  le  savoir,  U,  331 


Pigott,  Belle,  303 

—  Lord  Geo.,  359 
Pinkerton,  John,  90 
Piozzi,  Mrs.,  123 
Pisa,  23 

Pitcairn,  Dr.,  245 
Pitt,  Thos.,  12 

Pitt,  Wm.,  251,  253,  257,  275,  280 

—  Sir  Wm. ,  173 

Playfair,  John,  131,  293,  383,  389,  393 
Pollington,  Lord,  377,  379 
Ponsonby,  Lady  C,  266 

—  Wm.,  215 
Pope,  The,  12 

—  Miss,  208 
Porteous,  Bishop,  53 
Portland,  Duke  of,  237 
Portman  family,  407 
Portuguese  language,  31 
Poyntz,  Miss  G.  A. ,  92 
Pozzo  di  Borgo,  326,  328 
Prices,  The,  315 

QUEENSBERRY,  Duke  of,  19,  237,  242 

Quin,  Dr. ,  416 

Raith,  estate  of,  4,  5 

Ranelagh,  267 

Recamier,  Mme. ,  206,  378 

Reminiscences  of  Courts  of  Geo.  I  and 

II,  18 
Review  on  Champs  de  Mars,  345 

—  of  Russian  troops,  386 
Reynolds,  Sir  J.,  19,  297 
Richmond,  Duchess  of,  112,  164,  196 

—  Duke  of,  19-275  passim 

—  House,  36 
Rivers,  Lord,  267,  274 
Robinson,  G.,  291 
Rochambeau,  Gen.,  136 
Roderer,  Cte.,  342,  370,  375 
Rogers,  Saml.,  288,  290 
Rome,  12,  36 

Rosebery,  Lord,  315,  322 
Rosslyns,  The,  288 
Rotterdam,  11 
Russell,  Lady,  383,  396 

—  Lord  John,  383  et  sqq. 

Sackville  Street,  21 

St.  Domingo,  238 

St.  Helena,  332 

St.  Jules,  Caroline,  215,  267 

Salamanca,  Battle  of,  306 

Saxe  Weimar,  Duchess  of,  386 

Scott,  Hon.  Mrs.,  57 

Selwyn,  Geo.  and  his  Contemporaries, 

426 
Seton,  Mrs.,  10,  11 

—  Miss,  6 
Shaftesbury,  Lady,  288 
Sharpe,  C.  K.,4 


44« 


BERRY    PAPERS 


Sheffield,  Lady,  290 
Shenstone,  19 
Sheridan,  R.  B.,  119,  120 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  19,  27 
Sierra  Morena,  48 
Skeffington,  Sir  L. ,  288 
Sligo,  Lord,  243,  273 
Smith,  Sir  Wm.  Sidney,  213 

—  Sydney,  288,  296 
Soho,  143,  157 
Spectator,  The,  10 
Spanish  language,  31 

Spencer,    Dowager    Lady,    198,    209, 
210,  212,  249,  267 

—  Wm.,  290 

Stanhope,  Mrs.,  112,  126,  143 
Stewart,  Mrs.  Dugald,  9 
Stormont,  Lady,  325 
Strathnairn,  Lord,  243 
Strawberry  Hill,  5-200 passim 

—  Little,  24,  88,  89,  90,  120,  161 
Stuart,  Sir  Chas.,  311,  317,  329 

—  Peter,  316,  318 
Sunderlin,  Lord,  350 
Sundridge  Church,  219 
Sutherland,  Duke  of,  421 

—  Lady, 225 
Switzerland,  11 

Talleyrand,  329,  332,  338,  342,  345 

Talma,  323,  325 

Tayler,  Mr.,  132 

Taylor,  Sarah,  428 

Teddington,  88 

Terence,  137 

Thackeray,  438 

Thalia,  28 

Theatre  Francais,  321,  325,  327,  337, 

344 
Theatrical   performances,   law   as  to, 

203 
Thomson,  19 
Thores,  214 
Thornton,  Cyril,  youth  and  manhood 

of,  177 
Tighe,  Mrs.,  315 
Topham,  58 
Toulon,  136 
Townsend,  Miss,  5 
Trial  of  Wilson  and  others,  366,  367, 

368 
Trimmer,  Miss,  211,  224 

—  Mrs.,  211 
Tuileries,  The,  206,  379 
Tunbridge  Wells,  289 


Turin,  26 

Twickenham,  13,  77,  104,  200 

Tyrawley,  Lord,  134,  135 

Upper  Brook  Street,  124 
Upreece,  Mrs.,  304 
Urania,  202 

Vernon,  Lady  Ann,  243 

—  Caroline,  303 
Versailles,  374 
Victorine,  331 
Villars,  Mrs.,  265 
Villiers,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  227 
Vimiera,  Battle  of,  292 
Visconti,  Mdme.,  282 
Vise,  Dr.,  221 

Waldegrave,  Dowager  Countess  of, 

198 
Wales,  Prince  of,  291 

—  Princess  of,  290,  297,  303,  305,  306,  ^ 

3°7 
Walpole,  H.,  13  et  passim ;  death  of, 

198 
Ward,  J.  W.,9 
Warren,  Lady,  328,  352 
Waterford,  Marquis  of,  237,  250,  266 
Wedding  Day,  The,  224 
Wellington,   Duke  of,  323,   332,  333, 

345.  348 
Westmacott,  R.,  413,  417 
Westminster  School,  134 
Weymouth,  11 
Whishaw,  J. ,  396 
Whitbread,  Lady,  288 

—  Saml. ,  288 
Whitworth,  Lord,  227,  269,  272 

Who's  the  dupe  ?  224 
Wilson,  Sir  R.  T. ,  225,  320,  363,  371 
Wimbledon  Common,  65 
Wimpole,  303 
Windham,  W.,  288 
Windsor,  79,  85 
Wombwell,  Sir  G. ,  195 
Wood,  Alderman,  308,  357 

—  John,  228 
World  newspaper,  58 
Wrattan,  James,  228 
Wriothesley,  Rachel,  Life  of,  383 

Yorktown,  135 
Young,  Mrs.,  208 

Youth  and  manhood  of  Cyril  Thornton, 
177 


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glimpses  "behind  the  scenes,"  chats  pleasantly  about  all  manner  of  celebrities  in 
the  land  of  Bohemia  and  out  of  it,  tells  many  amusing  anecdotes,  and  like  a  true 
comedian  is  not  bashful  when  the  laugh  is  against  himself.  The  book  is  well 
supplied  with  interesting  illustrations,  some  of  them  reproductions  of  the 
author's  own  work. 

FANNY     BURNEY     AT    THE     COURT     OF 

QUEEN  CHARLOTTE.  By  Constance  Hill.  Author  of 
"  The  House  in  St.  Martin  Street,"  "  Juniper  Hall,"  etc.  With 
numerous  Illustrations  by  Ellen  G.  Hill  and  reproductions  of 
contemporary  Portraits,  etc.     Demy  8vo.      16s.net. 

*#*  This  book  deals  with  the  Court  life  of  Fanny  Burney  covering  the  years 
1786-91,  and  therefore  forms  a  link  between  the  two  former  works  on  Fanny 
Burney  by  the  same  writer,  viz.  "The  House  in  St.  Martin  Street,"  and 
"  Juniper  Hall."  The  writer  has  been  fortunate  in  obtaining  much  unpublished 
material  from  members  of  the  Burney  family  as  well  as  interesting  contemporary 
portraits  and  relics.  The  scene  of  action  in  this  work  is  constantly  shifting — 
now  at  Windsor,  now  at  Kew,  now  sea-girt  at  Weymouth,  and  now  in  London  ; 
and  the  figures  that  pass  before  our  eyes  are  endowed  with  a  marvellous  vitality 
by  the  pen  of  Fanny  Bnrney.  When  the  court  was  at  St.  James's  the  Keeper  of 
the  Robes  had  opportunities  of  visiting  her  own  family  in  St.  Martin  Street,  and 
also  of  meeting  at  the  house  of  her  friend  Mrs.  Ord  "evei  y  thing  delectable  in  the 
blue  way."  Thither  Horace  Walpole  would  come  in  all  haste  from  Strawberry 
Hill  for  the  sole  pleasure  of  spending  an  evening  in  her  society.  After  such  a 
meeting  Fanny  writes—"  he  was  in  high  spirits,  polite,  ingenious,  entertaining, 
quaint  and  original."  A  striking  account  of  the  King's  illness  in  the  winter  ot 
1788-9  is  given,  followed  by  the  widespread  rejoicings  for  his  recovery ;  when 
London  was  ablaze  with  illuminations  that  extended  for  many  miles  around,  and 
when  "even  the  humblest  dwelling  exhibited  its  rush-light."  The  author  and  the 
illustrator  of  this  work  have  visited  the  various  places,  where  King  George  and 

8ueen  Charlotte  stayed  when  accompanied  by  Fanny  Burney.  Among  these  are 
xford,  Cheltenham,  Worcester,  Weymouth  and  Dorchester;  where  sketches 
have  been  made,  or  old  prints  discovered,  illustrative  of  those  towns  in  the  late 
18th  century  savours  of  Georgian  days.  There  the  national  flag  may  still  be  seen 
a*  it  appeared  before  the  union. 


MEMORIES  OF  SIXTY  YEARS  AT  ETON, 
CAMBRIDGE  AND  ELSEWHERE.  By  Oscar  Browning. 
Illustrated.     Demy  8vo.      14s.  net. 


MEMOIRS,   BIOGRAPHIES,   Etc.  5 

THE  STORY  OF  DON  JOHN  OF  AUSTRIA. 

By  Padre  Luis  Coloma,  S.J.,  of  the  Real  Academia  Espafiola. 
Translated  by  Lady  Moreton.  With  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo. 
1 6s.  net. 

*#*  "  A  new  type  of  book,  half  novel  and  half  history,"  as  it  is  very  aptly 
called  in  a  discourse  delivered  on  the  occasion  of  Padre  Coloma's  election  to  the 
Academia  de  Espana,  the  story  of  the  heroic  son  of  Charles  V.  is  retold  by  one  ol 
Spain's  greatest  living  writers  with  a  vividness  and  charm  all  his  own.  The 
childhood  of  Jeromin,  afterwards  Don  John  of  Austria  reads  like  a  mysterious 
romance.  His  meteoric  career  is  traced  through  the  remaining  chapters  of  the 
book  ;  first  as  the  attractive  youth  ;  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  that  were  bright  and 
gay  at  the  court  of  Philip  II.,  which  Padre  Coloma  maintains  was  less  austere 
than  is  usually  supposed  ;  then  as  conqueror  of  the  Moors,  culminating  as  the 
"man  from  God"  who  saved  Europe  from  the  terrible  peril  of  a  Turkish 
dominion  ;  triumphs  in  Tunis  ;  glimpses  of  life  in  the  luxury  loving  Italy  of  the 
day ;  then  the  sad  story  of  the  war  in  the  Netherlands,  when  our  hero,  victim 
of  an  infamous  conspiracy,  is  left  to  die  of  a  broken  heart ;  his  end  hastened  by 
fever,  and,  maybe,  by  the  "  broth  of  Doctor  Ramirez. '■  Perhaps  more  fully  than 
ever  before  is  laid  baie  the  intrigue  which  led  to  the  cruel  death  of  the  secretary, 
Escovedo,  including  the  dramatic  interview  between  Philip  II.  and  Antonio 
Perez,  in  the  lumber  room  of  the  Escorial.  A  minute  account  of  the  celebrated 
auto  da/e  in  Valladolid  cannot  fail  to  arrest  attention,  nor  will  the  details  of 
several  of  the  imposing  ceremonies  of  Old  Spain  be  less  welcome  than  those  of 
more  intimate  festivities  in  the  Madrid  of  the  sixteenth  century,  or  of  everyday 
life  in  a  Spanish  castle. 

*«*  "This  book  has  all  the  fascination  of  a  vigorous  toman  a  clef  .  .  .  the 
translation  is  vigorous  and  idiomatic."— Mr.  Owen  Edwards  in  Morning  Post. 

THIRTEEN  YEARS   OF  A   BUSY   WOMAN'S 

LIFE.  By  Mrs.  Alec  Tweedie.  With  Nineteen  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      16s.  net.     Third  Edition. 

,*,  It  is  a  novel  idea  for  an  author  to  give  her  reasons  for  taking  up  her  pen 
as  a  journalist  and  writer  of  books.  This  Mrs.  Alec  Tweedie  has  done  in 
"Thirteen  Years  of  a  Busy  Woman's  Life."  She  tells  a  dramatic  story  of  youthful 
happiness,  health,  wealth,  and  then  contrasts  that  life  with  the  thirteen  years  of 
hard  work  that  followed  the  loss  of  her  husband,  her  father,  and  her  income  in 
quick  succession  in  a  few  weeks.  Mrs.  Alec  Tweedie's  books  of  travel  and 
biography  are  well-known,  and  have  been  through  many  editions,  even  to  shilling 
copies  for  the  bookstalls.  This  is  hardly  an  autobiography,  the  author  is  too 
young  for  that,  but  it  gives  romantic,  and  tragic  peeps  into  the  life  of  a  woman 
reared  in  luxury,  who  suddenly  found  herself  obliged  to  live  on  a  tiny  income 
with  two  small  children,  or  work — and  work  hard — to  retain  something  of  her  old 
life  and  interests*.  It  is  a  remarkable  story  with  many  personal  sketches  of  some 
of  the  best-known  men  and  women  of  the  day. 

#%  "  One  of  the  gayest  and  sanest  surveys  of  English  society  we  have  read 
for  years."— Pail  MallGaxetU. 

#*#  "  A  pleasant  laugh  from  cover  to  cover." — Daily  Chronicle. 

THE    ENGLISH     AND     FRENCH     IN    THE 

XVIIth  CENTURY.  By  Charles  Bastide.  With  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.   6d.  net. 

#*#  The  author  of  this  book  of  essays  on  the  intercourse  between  England 
and  France  in  the  seventeenth  century  has  gathered  much  curious  and  Tittle- 
known  information.  How  did  the  travellers  proceed  from  London  to  Paris?  Did 
the  Frenchmen  who  came  over  to  Enelind  learn,  and  did  they  ever  venture 
to  write  English?  An  almost  unqualified  admiration  for  everything  French  then 
prevailed  :  French  tailors,  milliners,  cooks,  even  fortune-tellers,  as  well  as  writers 
and  actresses,  reigned  supreme.  How  far  did  gallomania  affect  the  relations 
between  the  two  countries  ?  Among  the  foreigners  who  settled  in  England  none 
exercised  such  varied  influence  as  the  Hugenots;  students  of  Shakespeare  and 
Milton  can  no  longer  ignore  the  Hugenot  friends  of  the  two  poets,  historians  of 
the  Commonwealth  must  take  into  account  the  "Nouvelles  ordinaires  de 
Londres.""  the  French  gazette,  issued  on  the  Puritan  side,  by  some  enterprising 
refugee.  Is  it  then  possible  to  determine  how  deeply  the  refugees  impressed 
English  thought?  Such  are  the  main  questions  to  which  the  book  affords  an 
answer.  With  its  numerous  hitherto  unpublished  documents  and  illustrations, 
drawn  from  contemporary  sources,  it  cannot  fail  to  interest  those  to  whom  a  most 
brilliant  and  romantic  period  in  English  history  must  necessarily  appeal. 


A   CATALOGUE    OF 


THE   VAN   EYCKS  AND   THEIR    ART.       By 

W.  H.  James  Weale,  with  the  co-operation  of  Maurice 
Brockwell.  With     numerous     Illustrations.         Demy     8vo. 

125.  6d.  net. 

<t*«  The  large  book  on  "Hubert  and  John  Van  Eyck"  which  Mr.  Weale 
published  in  1908  through  Mr.  John  Lane  was  instantly  recognised  by  the 
reviewers  and  critics  as  an  achievement  of  quite  exceptional  importance.  It  is 
now  felt  that  the  time  has  come  for  a  revised  and  slightly  abridged  edition  of  that 
which  was  issued  four  years  ago  at  £5  5s.  net.  The  text  has  been  compressed  in 
some  places  and  extended  in  others,  while  certain  emendations  have  been  made, 
and  after  due  reflection,  the  plan  of  the  book  has  been  materially  recast.  This 
renders  it  of  greater  assistance  to  the  student. 

The  large  amount  of  research  work  and  methodical  preparation  of  a  revised 
text  obliged  Mr.  Weale,  through  failing  health  and  eyesight,  to  avail  himself  of 
the  services  of  Mr.  Brockwell,  and  Mr.  Weale  gives  it  as  his  opinion  in  the  new 
Foreword  that  he  doubts  whether  he  could  have  found  a  more  able  collaborator 
than  Mr.  Brockwell  to  edit  this  volume. 

"The  Van  Eycks  and  their  Art,"  so  far  from  being  a  mere  reprint  at  a  popular 
price  of  '•  Hubert  and  John  Van  Eyck,"  contains  several  new  features,  notable 
among  which  are  the  inclusion  of  an  Appendix  giving  details  of  all  the  sales  at 
public  auction  in  any  country  from  1662  to  1912  of  pictures  reputed  to  be  by  the 
Van  Eycks.  An  entirely  new  and  ample  Index  has  been  compiled,  while  the 
bibliography,  which  extends  over  many  pages,  and  the  various  component  parts 
of  the  book  have  been  brought  abreast  of  the  most  recent  criticism.  Detailed 
arguments  are  given  for  the  first  time  of  a  picture  attributed  to  one  of  the  brothers 
Van  Eyck  in  a  private  collection  in  Russia. 

In  conclusion  it  must  be  pointed  out  that  Mr.  Weale  has,  with  characteristic 
care,  read  through  the  proofs  and  passed  the  whole  book  for  press 

The  use  of  a  smaller  format  and  of  thinner  paper  renders  the  present  edition 
easier  to  handle  as  a  book  of  reference. 

COKE    OF    NORFOLK    AND    HIS    FRIENDS. 

The  Life  of  Thomas  Coke,  First  Earl  of  Leicester  and  of 
Holkham.  By  A.  M.  W.  Stirling.  New  Edition,  revised, 
with  some  additions.  With  19  Illustrations.  In  one  volume. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.   6 d.  net. 

THE     EMPRESS     JOSEPHINE.        By     Joseph 

Turquan.  Author  of  "The  Love  Affairs  of  Napoleon," 
"The  Wife  of  General  Bonaparte."  Illustrated.  Demy  8vo. 
12s.  6d.   net. 

#*«  "The  Empress  Josephine"  continues  and  completes  the  graphically 
drawn  life  story  begun  in  "  The  Wife  of  General  Bonaparte  "  by  the  same  author, 
takes  us  through  the  brilliant  period  of  the  Empire,  shows  us  the  gradual 
development  and  the  execution  oi  the  Emperor's  plan  to  divorce  his  middle-aged 
wife,  paints  in  vivid  colours  the  picture  of  Josephine's  existence  after  her  divorce, 
tells  us  how  she,  although  now  nothing  but  his  friend,  still  met  him  occasionally 
and  corresponded  frequently  with  him,  and  how  she  passed  her  time  in  the  midst 
of  her  minature  court.  This  work  enables  us  to  realise  the  very  genuine 
affection  which  Napoleon  possessed  for  his  first  wife,  an  affection  which  lasted 
till  death  closed  her  eyes  in  her  lonely  hermitage  at  La  Malmaison,  and  until  he 
w*nt  to  expiate  at  Saint  Helena  his  rashness  in  braving  all  Europe.  Compar- 
atively little  is  known  of  the  period  covering  Josephine  s  life  after  her  divorce, 
andyet  M.  Turquan  has  found  much  to  tell  us  that  is  very  interesting;  for  the 
ex-Empress  in  her  two  retreats,  Navarre  and  La  Malmaison,  was  visited  by  many 
celebrated  people,  and  after  the  Emperor's  downfall  was  so  ill-judged  as  to 
welcome  and  fete  several  of  the  vanquished  hero's  late  friends,  now  bis  declared 
enemies.  The  story  of  her  last  illness  and  death  forms  one  of  the  most  interesting 
chapters  in  this  most  complete  work  upon  fhe  first  Empress  of  the  French. 

NAPOLEON  IN  CARICATURE  :  1795-1821.    By 

A.  M.  Broadley.  With  an  Introductory  Essay  on  Pictorial  Satire 
as  a  Factor  in  Napoleonic  History,  by  J.  Holland  Rose,  Litt.  D. 
(Cantab.).  With  24  full-page  Illustrations  in  Colour  and  upwards 
of  200  in  Black  and  White  from  rare  and  unique  originals. 
2  Vols.     Demy  8vo.     42s.  net. 

Also  an  Edition  de  Luxe.     10  guineas  net. 


MEMOIRS,   BIOGRAPHIES,   Etc.  7 

NAPOLEON'S  LAST  CAMPAIGN  IN  GER- 
MANY. By  F.  Loraine  Petre.  Author  of  "Napoleon's 
Campaign  in  Poland,"  "Napoleon's  Conquest  of  Prussia,"  etc. 
With    17  Maps  and  Plans.      Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

,«*.»  In  the  author's  two  first  histories  of  Napoleon's  campaigns  (1806  and  1807) 
the  Emperor  is  at  his  greatest  as  a  soldier.  The  third  (1809)  showed  the 
commencement  of  the  decay  of  his  genius.  Now,  in  1813,  he  has  seriously  declined. 
The  military  judgment  of  Napoleon,  the  general,  is  constantly  fettered  by  the 
pride  and  oDstinacy  of  Napoleon,  the  Emperor.  The  military  principles  which 
guided  him  up  to  1807  are  frequently  abandoned  ;  he  aims  at  secondary  objectives, 
or  mere  geographical  points,  instead  of  solely  at  the  destruction  of  the  enemy's 
army ;  he  hesitates  and  fails  to  grasp  the  true  situation  in  a  way  that  was  never 
known  in  his  earlier  campaigns.  Yet  frequently,  as  at  Bautsen  and  Dresden,  his 
genius  shines  with  all  its  old  brilliance. 

The  campaign  of  1813  exhibits  the  breakdown  of  his  over-centralised  system 
of  command,  which  left  him  without  subordinates  capable  of  exercising  semi- 
independent  command  over  portions  of  armies  which  had  now  grown  to  dimensions 
approaching  those  of  our  own  day. 

The  autumn  campaign  is  a  notable  example  of  the  system  of  interior  lines,  as 
opposed  to  that  of  strategical  envelopment.  It  marks,  too,  the  real  downfall  of 
Napoleon's  power,  for,  after  the  fearful  destruction  of  1813,  the  desperate  struggle 
of  1814,  glorious  though  it  was,  could  never  have  any  real  probability  of  success. 

FOOTPRINTS  OF   FAMOUS  AMERICANS  IN 

PARIS.  By  John  Joseph  Conway,  M.A.  With  32  Full-page 
Illustrations.  With  an  Introduction  by  Mrs.  John  Lane. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

»%  Franklin,  Jefferson,  Munroe,  Tom  Paine,  La  Fayette,  Paul  Jones,  etc., 
etc.,  the  most  striking  figures  of  a  heroic  age,  working  out  in  the  City  of  Light 
the  great  questions  for  which  they  stood,  are  dealt  with  here.  Longfellow  the 
poet  of  the  domestic  affections  ;  matchless  Margaret  Fuller  who  wrote  so  well  of 
women  in  the  nineteenth  century;  Whistler  master  of  American  artists;  Saint- 
Gaudens  chief  of  American  sculptors ;  Ruraford,  most  picturesque  of  scientific 
knight-errants  and  several  others  get  a  chapter  each  for  their  lives  and 
achievements  in  Paris.  A  new  and  absorbing  interest  is  opened  up  to  visitors. 
Their  trip  to  Versailles  becomes  more  pleasurable  when  they  realise  what 
Franklyn  did  at  that  brilliant  court.  The  Place  de  la  Bastille  becomes  a  sacred 
place  to  Americans  realizing  that  the  principles  of  the  youngrepublic  brought 
about  the  destruction  of  the  vilest  old  dungeon  in  the  world.  The  Seine  becomes 
silvery  to  the  American  conjuring  up  that  bright  summer  morning  when  Robert 
Fulton  started  from  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  in  the  first  steam  boat.  The  Louvre 
takes  on  a  new  attraction  from  the  knowledge  that  it  houses  the  busts  of 
Washington  and  Franklyn  and  La  Fayette  by  Houdon.  The  Luxembourg  becomes 
a  greater  temple  of  art  to  him  who  knows  that  it  holds  Whistler's  famous  portrait 
of  his  mother.  Even  the  weather-beaten  bookstalls  by  the  banks  of  the  Seine 
become  beautiful  because  Hawthorne  and  his  son  loitered  among  them  on  sunny 
days  sixty  years  ago.  The  book  has  a  strong  literary  flavour.  Its  history  is 
enlivened;  with  anecdote.     It  is  profusely  illustrated. 

MEMORIES       OF       JAMES       McNEILL 

WHISTLER  :  The  Artist.  By  Thomas  R.  Way.  Author  of 
"  The  Lithographs  of  J.  M.  Whistler,"  etc.  With  numerous 
Illustrations.      Demy  4  to.      10s.  6d.  net. 

%*  This  volume  contains  about  forty  illustrations,  including  an  unpublished 
etching  drawn  by  Whistler  and  bitten  in  by  Sir  Frank  Short,  A.K.A.,  an  original 
lithograph  sketch,  seven  lithographs  in  colour  drawn  by  the  Author  upon  brown 
paper,  and  many  in  black  and  white.  The  remainder  are  facsimiles  by  photo- 
lithography. In  most  cases  the  originals  are  drawings  and  sketches  by  Whistler 
whicn  have  never  been  published  before,  and  are  closely  connected  with  the 
matter  of  the  book.  The  text  deals  with  the  Author's  memories  of  nearly  twenty 
year's  close  association  with  Whistler,  and  he  endeavours  to  treat  only  with  the 
man  as  an  artist,  and  perhaps,  especially  as  a  lithographer. 

•Also  an  Edition  de  Luxe  on  hand-made  paper,  with  the  etching 
printed  from  the  original  plate.     Limited  to  50  copies. 

♦This  is  Out  of  Print  with  the  Publisher. 


A   CATALOGUE    OF 


HISTORY    OF    THE    PHILHARMONIC    SO- 

CIETY  :  A  Record  of  a  Hundred  Years'  Work  in  the  Cause  of 
Music.  Compiled  by  Myles  Birket  Foster,  F.R.A.M.,  etc. 
With  1 6  Illustrations.      Demy  8vo.      ios.  6d.  net. 

•.•As  the  Philharmonic  Society,  whose  Centenary  is  now  being  celebrated,  is 
and  has  ever  been  connected,  during  its  long  existence,  with  the  history  of 
musical  composition  and  production,  not  only  in  this  country,  but  upon  the 
Continent,  and  as  every  great  name  in  Europe  and  America  in  the  last  hundred 
years  (within  the  realm  of  high-class  music),  has  been  associated  with  it,  this 
volume  will,  it  is  believed,  prove  to  be  an  unique  work,  not  only  as  a  book  ot 
reference,  but  also  as  a  record  of  the  deepest  interest  to  all  lovers  of  good 
music  It  is  divided  into  ten  Decades,  with  a  small  narrative  account  of  the 
principal  happenings  in  each,  to  which  are  added  the  full  programmes  of  every 
concert,  and  tables  showing,  at  a  glance,  the  number  and  nationality  of  the  per- 
formers and  composers,  with  other  particulars  ol  interest.  The  book  is  made  of 
additional  value  by  means  of  rare  illustrations  of  MS.  works  specially  composed 
for  the  Society,  and  of  letters  from  Wagner,  Berlioz,  Brahms,  Liszt,  etc.,  etc., 
written  to  the  Directors  and,  by  their  permission,  reproduced  for  the  first  time. 

IN     PORTUGAL.        By     Aubrey     F.    G.    Bell. 

Author  of  "  The  Magic  of  Spain."       Demy  8vo.        7s.  6d.  net. 

#%  The  guide-books  give  full  details  of  the  marvellous  convents,  gorgeous 
palaces,  and  solemn  temples  of  Portugal,  and  no  attempt  is  here  made  to  write 
complete  descriptions  of  them,  the  very  name  of  some  of  them  being  omitted. 
But  the  guide-books  too  often  treat  Portugal  as  a  continuation,  almost  as  a  province 
of  Spain.  It  is  hoped  that  this  little  book  may  give  some  idea  of  the  individual 
character  of  the  country,  of  the  quaintnesses  of  its  cities,  and  of  peasant  life  in 
its  remoter  districts.  While  the  utterly  opposed  characters  of  the  two  peoples 
must  probably  render  the  divorce  between  Spain  and  Portugal  eternal,  ana  reduce 
hopes  of  union  to  the  idle  dreams  of  politicians.  Portugal  in  itself  contains  an 
infinite  variety.  Each  of  the  eight  provinces  (more  especially  those  of  the 
aletnUjanos,  minhotos  and  beiroes)  preserves  many  peculiarities  of  language, 
customs,  and  dress  ;  and  each  will,  in  return  for  hardships  endured,  give  to  the 
traveller  many  a  day  of  delight  and  interest. 

A    TRAGEDY     IN     STONE,    AND     OTHER 

PAPERS.  By  Lord  Redesdale,  G.C.V.O.,  K.C.C.,  etc. 
Demy  8vo.     7s.  6d.  net. 

»*#  "  From  the  author  of  '  Tales  of  Old  Japan  '  his  readers  always  hope  for 
more  about  Japan,  and  in  this  volume  they  will  find  it.  The  earlier  papers, 
however,  are  not  to  be  passed  over." — Times. 

«*«  "  Lo>-d  Redesdale's  present  volume  consists  of  scholarly  essays  on  a 
variety  ol  subjects  of  historic,  literary  and  artistic  appeal." — Standard. 

#*#  "The  author  of  the  classic  'Tales  of  Old  Japan '  is  assured  of  welcome, 
and  the  more  so  when  he  returns  to  the  field  in  which  his  literary  reputation  was 
made.    Charm  is  never  absent  from  his  pages." — Daily  Chronicle. 

MY    LIFE    IN    PRISON.      By  Donald  Lowrie. 

Crown  8vo.       6s.  net. 

9%  This  book  is  absolutely  true  and  vital.  Within  its  pages  passes  the 
mynorama  of  prison  life.  Ana  within  its  pages  may  be  found  revelations  of  the 
divine  and  the  undivine ;  of  strange  humility  and  stranger  arrogance  ;  of  free 
men  brutalized  and  caged  men  humanized;  of  big  and  little  tragedies;  of  love, 
cunning,  hate,  despair,  hope.  There  is  humour,  too  though  sometimes  the  jest  is 
made  ironic  by  its  sequel.  And  there  is  romance — the  romance  of  the  real ;  not  the 
romance  of  Kipling's  9.15,  but  the  romance  of  No.  19,093,  and  of  all  the  other 
numbers  that  made  up  the  arithmetical  hell  of  San  Quentin  prison. 

Few  novels  could  so  absorb  interest.  It  is  human  utterly.  That  is  the  reason. 
Not  only  is  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  prison  preserved,  from  the  colossal  sense 
of  encasement  and  defencelessness,  to  the  smaller  jealousies,  exultations  and 
disappointments  ;  not  only  is  there  a  succession  of  characters  emerging  into  the 
clearest  individuality  and  genuineness,— each  with  its  distinctive  contribution 
and  separate  value  ;  but  beyond  the  details  and  through  all  the  contrasted 
variety,  there  is  the  spell  of  complete  drama,— the  drama  of  life.  Here  is  the 
underworld  in  continuous  moving  pictures,  with  the  overworld  watching.  True, 
the  stage  is  a  prison;  but  is  not  all  the  world  a  stage  ? 

It  is  a  book  that  should  exercise  a  profound  influence  on  the  lives  of  the 
caged,  and  on  the  whole  attitude  of  society  toward  the  problems  of  poverty  and 
criminality. 


MEMOIRS,    BIOGRAPHIES,   Etc.  9 

AN  IRISH  BEAUTY  OF  THE  REGENCY  :  By 

Mrs.  Warrenne  Blake.  Author  of  "  Memoirs  of  a  Vanished 
Generation,  1 8 1 3- 1 8 5  5."  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and 
other  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.      1 6s.  net. 

•JThe  Irish  Beauty  is  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Calvert,  daughter  of  Viscount  Pery, 
Speaker  of  the  Irish  House  of  Commons,  and  wife  of  Nicholson  Calvert,  M.P.,  of 
Hunsdon.  Born  in  1767,  Mrs.  Calvert  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety-two,  and  there 
are  many  people  still  living  who  remember  her.  In  the  delightful  journals,  now 
for  the  first  time  published,  exciting  events  are  described. 

THE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  THE  NINETEENTH 

CENTURY.  By  Stewart  Houston  Chamberlain.  A  Translation 
from  the  German  by  John  Lees.  With  an  Introduction  by 
Lord  Redesdale.  Demy  8vo.  2  vols.  25s.  net.  Second 
Edition. 

%*  A  man  who  can  write  such  a  really  beautiful  and  solemn  appreciation  ol 
true  Christianity,  of  true  acceptance  of  Christ's  teachings  and  personality,  as 
Mr.  Chamberlain  has  done.  .  .  .  represents  an  influence  to  be  reckoned  with 
and  seriously  to  be  taken  into  account.'  — Theodore  Roosevelt  tn  the  Outlook,  New 
York. 

*#*  •'  It  is  a  masterpiece  of  really  scientific  history.  It  does  not  make  con- 
fusion, it  clears  it  away.  He  is  a  great  generalizer  of  thought,  as  distinguished 
from  the  crowd  of  mere  specialists.  It  is  certain  to  stir  up  thought.  Whoever 
has  not  read  it  will  be  rather  out  of  it  in  political  and  sociological  discussions  for 
some  time  to  come." — George  Bernard  Shaw  in  Fabian  News. 

***  "This  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  rare  books  that  really  matter.  His 
judgments  of  men  and  things  are  deeply  and  indisputably  sincere  and  are  based 
on  immense  reading  .  .  .  But  even  many  well-informed  people  .  .  .  will  be 
grateful  to  Lord  Redesdale  for  the  biographical  details  which  he  gives  them  in  the 
valuable  and  illuminating  introduction  contributed  by  him  to  this  English 
translation." — Times. 

THE     SPEAKERS     OF     THE     HOUSE     OF 

COMMONS  from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the  Present  Day,  with 
a  Topographical  Account  of  Westminster  at  Various  Epochs, 
Brief  Notes  on  Sittings  of  Parliament  and  a  Retrospect  of 
the  principal  Constitutional  Changes  during  Seven  Centuries.  By 
Arthur  Irwin  Dasent,  Author  of  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  John 
Delane,"  "The  History  of  St.  James's  Square,"  etc.,  etc.  With 
numerous  Portraits,  including  two  in  Photogravure  and  one  in 
Colour.     Demy  8vo.      21s.  net. 

ROMANTIC    TRIALS    OF    THREE    CENTU- 

RIES.  By  Hugh  Childers  With  numerous  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      1  2s.  6d.  net. 

*#*  This  volume  deals  with  some  famous  trials,  occurring  between  the  years 
1650  and  1850,  All  of  them  possess  some  exceptional  interest,  or  introduce 
historical  personages  in  a  fascinating  style,  peculiarly  likely  to  attract  attention. 

The  book  is  written  for  the  general  reading  public,  though  in  many  respects 
it  should  be  of  value  to  lawyers,  who  will  be  especially  interested  in  the  trials  of 
the  great  William  Penn  and  Elizabeth  Canning.  The  latter  case  is  one  of  the 
most  enthralling  interest. 

Twenty-two  years  later  the  same  kind  of  excitement  was  aroused  over 
Elizabeth  Chudleigh,  alias  Duchess  of  Kingston,  who  attracted  more  attention  in 
1776  than  the  war  of  American  independence. 

Then  the  history  of  the  fluent  Dr.  Dodd,  a  curiously  pathetic  one,  is  related, 
and  the  inconsistencies  of  his  character  very  clearly  brought  out;  perhaps  now  he 
may  have  a  little  more  sympathy  than  he  has  usually  received.  Several  im- 
portant letters  of  his  appear  here  for  the  first  time  in  print 

Among  other  important  trials  discussed  we  find  the  libel  action  against 
Disraeli  and  the  story  of  the  Lyons  Mail.  Our  knowledge  of  the  latter  is  chiefly 
gathered  from  the  London  stage,  but  there  is  in  it  a  far  greater  historical  interest 
than  would  be  suspected  by  those  who  have  only  seen  the  much  altered  story 
enacted  before  them. 


io  A  CATALOGUE  OF 

THE  OLD  GARDENS  OF  ITALY— HOW  TO 

VISIT   THEM.       By   Mrs.    Aubrey    Le   Blond.      With    ioo 
Illustrations  from  her  own  Photographs.     Crown  8vo.      5s.  net. 

%*  Hitherto  all  books  on  the  old  gardens  of  Italy  have  been  large,  costly,  and 
incomplete,  and  designed  for  the  library  rather  than  for  the  traveller.  Mrs. 
Aubrey  Le  Blond,  during  the  course  of  a  series  of  visits  to  all  parts  ol  Italy,  has 
compiled  a  volume  that  garden  lovers  can  carry  with  them,  enabling  them  to 
decide  which  gardens  are  worth  visiting,  where  they  are  situated,  how  they  may 
be  reached,  if  special  permission  to  see  them  is  required,  and  how  this  may  be 
obtained.  Though  the  book  is  practical  and  technical,  the  artistic  element  is 
supplied  by  the  illustrations,  one  at  least  of  which  is  given  tor  each  of  the  71 
gardens  described.  Mrs.  Aubrey  Le  Blond  was  the  illustrator  of  the  monumental 
work  by  H.  Inigo  Triggs  on  "The  Art  ol  Garden  Design  in  Italy,"  and  has  since 
taken  three  special  journeys  to  that  country  to  collect  material  for  her  "  The  Old 
Gardens  of  Italy." 

The  illustrations  have  been  beautifully  reproduced  by  a  new  process  which 
enables  them  to  be  printed  on  a  rough  light  paper,  instead  of  the  highly  glazed 
and  weighty  paper  necessitated  by  half-tone  blocks.  Thus  not  only  are  the 
illustrations  delightful  to  look  at,  but  the  book  is  a  pleasure  to  handle  instead  of 
a  dead  weight. 

DOWN   THE    MACKENZIE    AND    UP   THE 

YUKON.     By  E.  Stewart.      With  30  Illustrations  and  a  Map. 
Crown  8vo.      5  s.  net. 

*#*  Mr.  Stewart  was  former  Inspector  of  Forestry  to  the  Government  of 
Canada,  and  the  experience  be  thus  gained,  supplemented  by  a  really  remarkable 
journey,  will  prove  of  great  value  to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  commercial 
growth  of  Canada.  The  latter  portion  of  his  book  deals  with  the  various  peoples, 
animals,  industries,  etc.,  of  the  Dominion  ;  while  the  story  of  the  journey  he 
accomplished  provides  excellent  reading  in  Part  I.  Some  of  the  difficulties  he 
encountered  appeared  insurmountable,  and  a  description  of  his  perilous  voyage 
in  a  native  canoe  with  Indians  is  quite  haunting.  There  are  many  interesting 
illustrations  of  the  places  of  which  he  writes. 

AMERICAN  SOCIALISM   OF  THE  PRESENT 

DAY.       By    Jessie   Wallace  Hughan.       With  an   Introduction 
by  John  Spargo.     Crown  8vo.      5s.  net. 

%*  All  who  are  interested  in  the  multitudinous  political  problems  brought 
about  by  the  changing  conditions  of  the  present  day  should  read  this  book, 
irrespective  of  personal  bias.  The  applications  of  Socialism  throughout  the 
world  are  so  many  and  varied  that  the  book  is  of  peculiar  importance  to 
English  Socialists. 


THE    STRUGGLE    FOR    BREAD.         By    "A 

Rifleman  "     Crown   8vo.      5s.  net. 

%*  This  book  is  a  reply  to  Mr.  Norman  Angell's  well-known  work,  "The 
Great  Illusion  "  and  also  an  enquiry  into  the  present  economic  state  of  Europe. 
The  author,  examining  the  phenomenon  of  the  high  food-prices  at  present  ruling 
in  all  great  civilized  states,  proves  by  statistics  that  these  are  caused  by  a 
relative  decline  in  the  production  of  food-stuffs  as  compared  with  the  increase  in 
general  commerce  ana  tbe  production  of  manufactured-articles,  and  that  con- 
sequently there  has  ensued  a  rise  in  the  exchange-values  ot  manufactured-articles, 
which  with  our  system  of  society  can  have  no  other  effect  than  of  producing  high 
food-prices  and  low  wages.  The  author  proves,  moreover,  that  this  is  no  tem- 
porary fluctuation  of  prices,  but  the  inevitable  outcome  of  an  economic  movement, 
which  whilst  seen  at  its  fullest  development  during  the  last  few  years  has  been 
slowly  germinating  for  the  last  quarter-century.  Therefore,  food-prices  must 
continue  to  rise  whilst  wage*  must  continue  to  fall. 

THE  LAND  OF  TECK  &  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

By  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould.  With  numerous  Illustrations  (includ- 
ing several  in  Colour)  reproduced  from  unique  originals.  Demy 
8vo.      1  os.  6d.  net. 


MEMOIRS,   BIOGRAPHIES,    Etc.         ii 
GATES  OF  THE  DOLOMITES.     By  L.  Marion 

Datidson.  With  32  Illustrations  from  Photographs  and  a  Map. 
Crown  8vo.     Second  Edition.     5s.  net. 

%•  Whilst  many  English  books  have  appeared  on  the  Lande  Tirol,  few  have 
given  more  than  a  chapter  on  the  fascinating  Dolomite  Land,  and  it  is  in  the  hope 
of  helping  other  travellers  to  explore  the  mountain  land  with  less  trouble  and 
inconvenience  than  tell  to  her  lot  that  the  author  has  penned  these  attractive 
pages.  The  object  of  this  book  is  not  to  inform  the  traveller  how  to  scale  the 
apparently  inaccessible  peaks  of  the  Dolomites,  but  rather  how  to  find  the  roads, 
and  thread  the  valleys,  which  lead  him  to  the  recesses  of  this  most  lovely  part  of 
the  world's  face,  and  Miss  Davidson  conveys  just  the  knowledge  which  is  wanted 
for  this  purpose ;  especially  will  her  map  be  appreciated  by  those  who  wish  to 
make  their  own  plans  for  a  tour,  as  it  shows  at  a  glance  the  geography  of  the 
country. 

KNOWLEDGE     AND     LIFE.  By     William 

Arkwright.     Crown  8vo.     3s.  6d.  net. 

*«*  This  is  a  remarkably  written  book — brilliant  and  vital.  Mr.  Arkwright 
illumines  a  number  of  subjects  with  jewelled  flashes  of  word  harmony  and  chisels 
them  all  with  the  keen  edge  of  his  wit.  Art,  Letters,  and  Religion  of  different 
appeals  move  before  the  reader  in  vari-coloured  array,  like  the  dazzling  phan- 
tasmagoria of  some  Eastern  dream. 

CHANGING  RUSSIA.     A  Tramp  along  the  Black 

Sea  Shore  and  in  the  Urals.  By  Stephen  Graham.  Author  of 
"  Undiscovered  Russia,"  "  A  Vagabond  in  the  Caucasus,"  etc. 
With  Illustrations  and  a  Map.     Demy  8vo.     7s.  6d.  net. 

*#*  In  "  Changing  Russia,"  Mr.  Stephen  Graham  describes  a  journey  from 
Rostof-on-the-Don  to  Batum  and  a  summer  spent  on  the  Ural  Mountains.  The 
author  has  traversed  all  the  region  which  is  to  be  developed  by  the  new  railway 
from  Novo-rossisk  to  Poti.  It  is  a  tramping  diarv  with  notes  and  reflections. 
The  book  deals  more  with  the  commercial  life  of  Russia  than  with  that  of  the 
peasantry,  and  there  are  chapters  on  the  Russia  of  the  hour,  the  Russian  town, 
life  among  the  gold  miners  of  the  Urals,  the  bourgeois,  Russian  journalism,  the 
intelligentsia,  the  election  of  the  fourth  Duma.  An  account  is  given  of  Russia  at 
the  seaside,  and  each  of  the  watering  places  of  the  Black  Sea  shore  is 
described  in  detail. 

ROBERT  FULTON  ENGINEER  AND  ARTIST : 
HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK.  By  H.  W.  Dickinson,  A.M.I.Mech.E. 
Demy  8vo.      10s  6d.  net. 

%*  No  Biography  dealing  as  a  whole  with  the  life-work  of  the  celebrated 
Robert  Fulton  has  appeared  of  late  years,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  introduction 
of  steam  navigation  on  a  commercial  scale,  which  was  his  greatest  achievement 
has  recently  celebrated  its  centenary. 

The  author  has  been  instrumental  in  bringing  to  light  a  mass  of  documentary 
matter  relative  to  Fulton,  aud  has  thus  been  able  to  present  the  facts  about  him  in 
an  entirely  new  light .  The  interesting  but  little  known  episode  of  his  career  as 
an  artist  is  for  the  first  time  fully  dealt  wfth.  His  slay  in  France  and  his 
experiments  under  the  Directory  and  the  Empire  with  the  submarine  and  with 
the  steamboat  are  elucidated  with  the  aid  r>f  documents  preserved  in  the  Archives 
Nationales  at  Paris.  His  subsequent  withdrawal  from  France  and  his 
employment  by  the  British  Cabinet  to  destroy  the  Boulogne  flotilla  that  Napoleon 
haa  prepared  in  1804  to  invade  England  are  gone  into  fully.  The  latter  part  of  his 
career  in  the  United  States,  spent  in  the  introduction  of  steam  navigation  and  in 
the  construction  of  the  first  steam-propelled  warship,  is  of  the  greatest  interest. 
With  the  lapse  of  time  facts  assume  naturally  their  true  perspective.  Fulton, 
instead  of  being  represented,  according  to  the  English  point  of  view,  as  a 
charlatan  and  even  as  a  traitor,  or  from  the  Americans  as  a  universal  genius,  is 
cleared  from  these  charges,  and  his  pretensions  critically  examined,  with  the 
result  that  he  appears  as  a  cosmopolitan,  an  earnest  student,  a  painstaking 
experimenter  ana  an  enterprising  engineer. 

It  is  believed  that  practically  nothing  of  moment  in  Fulton's  career  has  been 
omitted.  The  illustrations,  which  are  numerous,  are  drawn  in  nearly  every  case 
from  the  original  sources.  It  may  confidently  be  expected,  therefore,  that  this 
book  will  take  its  place  as  the  authoritative  biography  which  everyone  interested 
in  the  subjects  enumerated  above  will  require  to  possess. 


12 A  CATALOGUE  OF 

A   STAINED   GLASS   TOUR   IN   ITALY.       By 

Charles  H.  Sherrill.  Author  of  "  Stained  Glass  Tours  in 
England,"  "  Stained  Glass  Tours  in  France,"  etc.  With 
33  Illustrations.      Demy  8vo.     7s.  6d.  net. 

*»*  Mr.  Sherrill  has  already  achieved  success  with  his  two  previous  books 
ou  the  subject  of  stained  glass.  In  Italy  he  finds  a  new  field,  which  offers  con- 
siderable scope  for  his  researches.  His  present  work  will  appeal  not  only  to 
tourists,  but  to  the  craftsmen,  because  of  the  writer's  sympathy  with  the  craft. 
Mr.  Sherrill  is  not  only  an  authority  whose  writing  is  clear  in  style  and  full  of 
understanding  for  the  requirements  of  the  reader,  but  one  whose  accuracy  and 
reliability  are  unquestionable.  This  is  the  most  important  book  published  on  the 
subject  with  which  it  deals,  and  readers  will  find  it  worthy  to  occupy  the 
position. 

SCENES   AND    MEMORIES   OF   THE   PAST. 

By  the  Honble.  Stephen  Coleridge.  With  numerous  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

*m*  Mr.  Stephem  Coleridge  has  seen  much  of  the  world  in  two  hemispheres 
and  has  been  able  to  count  among  his  intimate  personal  friends  many  of  those 
whose  names  have  made  the  Victorian  age  illustrious. 

Mr.  Coleridge  fortunately  kept  a  diary  for  some  years  of  his  life  and  has 
religiously  preserved  the  letters  of  his  distinguished  friends  ;  and  in  this  book 
the  public  are  permitted  to  enjoy  the  perusal  of  much  vitally  interesting 
correspondence. 

With  a  loving  and  appreciative  hand  the  author  sketches  the  characters  of 
many  great  men  as  they  were  known  to  their  intimate  associates.  Cardinals 
Manning  and  Newman,  G.  F.  Watts,  James  Russell  Lowell,  Matthew  Arnold, 
Sir  Henry  Irving,  Goldwin  Smith,  Lewis  Morris,  Sir  Stafford  Northcote,  Whistler, 
Oscar  Wilde,  Ruskin,  and  many  others  famous  in  the  nineteenth  century  will  be 
found  sympathetically  dealt  with  in  this  book. 

During  his  visit  to  America  as  the  guest  of  the  American  Bar  in  1883,  Lord 
Coleridge,  the  Chief  Justice,  and  the  author's  father  wrote  a  series  of  letters, 
which  have  been  carefully  preserved,  recounting  his  impressions  of  the  United 
States  and  of  the  leading  citizens  whom  he  met. 

Mr.  Coleridge  has  incorporated  portions  ol  these  letters  from  his  father  in  the 
volume,  and  they  will  prove  deeply  interesting  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 

Among  the  illustrations  are  many  masterly  portraits  never  before  published. 

From  the  chapter  on  the  author's  library,  which  is  full  of  priceless  literary 
treasures,  the  reader  can  appreciate  the  appropriate  surroundings  amid  which 
this  book  was  compiled. 

ANTHONY  TROLLOPE  :  HIS  WORK,  ASSO- 
CIATES AND  ORIGINALS.  By  T.  H.  S.  Escott.  Demy 
8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

%*  The  author  of  this  book  has  not  solely  relied  for  his  materials  on  a 
personal  intimacy  with  its  subject,  during  the  most  active  years  of  Trollope's  life, 
but  frcm  an  equal  intimacy  with  Trollope's  contemporaries  and  from  those  who 
had  seen  his  early  life.  He  has  derived,  and  here  sets  forth,  in  chronological 
order,  a  series  of  personal  incidents  and  experiences  that  could  not  be  gained 
but  for  the  author's  exceptional  opportunities.  These  incidents  have  neverbefore 
appeared  in  print,  but  that  are  absolutely  essential  for  a  right  understanding  of 
the  opinions — social,  political,  and  religious— of  which  Trollope's  writings  became 
the  medium,  as  well  as  of  the  chief  personages  in  his  stories,  from  the 
"  Macdermots  of  Ballycloran  "  (1847J  to  the  posthumous  "  Land  Leaguers  "  (1883). 
All  lifelike  pictures,  whether  of  place,  individual,  character  of  incident,  are 
painted  from  life.  The  entirely  fresh  light  now  thrown  on  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  forces,  chiefly  felt  by  the  novelist  during  his  childhood,  youth  and  early 
manhood,  helped  to  place  within  his  reach  the  originals  of  his  long  portrait 
gallery,  and  had  their  further  result  in  the  opinions,  as  well  as  the  estimates 
of  events  and  men.  in  which  his  writings  abound,  and  which,  whether  they  cause 
agreement  or  dissent,  always  reveal  life,  nature,  and  stimulate  thought.  The 
man,  who  had  for  his  Harrow  schoolfellows  Sidney  Herbert  and  Sir  William 
Gregory,  was  subsequently  brought  into  the  closest  relations  with  the  first  State 
officials  of  his  time,  was  himself  one  of  the  most  active  agents  in  making  penny 
postage  a  national  and  imperial  success,  and  when  he  planted  the  first  pillar- 
box  in  the  Channel  Islands,  accomplished  on  his  own  initiative  a  great  postal 
reform.  A  life  so  active,  varied  and  full,  gave  him  a  greater  diversity  of  friends 
throughout  the  British  Isles  than  belonged  to  any  other  nineteenth  century 
worker,  literary  or  official.  Hence  the  unique  interest  of  Trollope's  course,  and 
therefore  this,  its  record. 


MEMOIRS,  BIOGRAPHIES,  Etc.  13 

THE  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  PATRIOTISM. 

By  Esm6  C.  Wingheld  Stratford,  Fellow  King's  College,  Cam- 
bridge. In  2  vols.  Demy  8vo.  With  a  Frontispiece  to  each 
volume,  (1,300  pages).      25s   net. 

*«*  This  work  compresses  into  about  HALF  A  MILLION  WORDS  the 
substance  oi  EIGHT  YEARS  of  uninterrupted  labour. 

The  book  has  been  read  and  enthusiastically  commended  by  the  leading 
experts  in  the  principal  subjects  embraced  in  this  encyclopaedic  survey  of  English 
History. 

When  this  work  was  first  announced  under  the  above  title,  the  publisher 
suggested  calling  it  "A  New  History  of  England."  Indeed  it  is  both.  Mr. 
Wingfield  Stratford  endeavours  to  show  how  everything  of  value  that  nations  in 
general,  and  the  English  nation  in  particular, have  at  any  time  achieved  has  been 
the  direct  outcome  of  the  common  feeling  upon  which  patriotism  is  built.  He 
sees,  and  makes  his  readers  see,  the  manifold  development  cf  England  as  one 
connected  whole  with  no  more  branch  of  continuity  than  a  living  body  or  a  perfect 
work  of  art. 

The  author  may  fairly  claim  to  have  accomplished  what  few  previous 
historians  have  so  much  as  attempted.  He  has  woven  together  the  threads  of 
religion,  politics,  war,  philosophy,  literature,  painting,  architecture,  law  and 
commerce,  into  a  narrative  of  unbroken  and  absorbing  interest. 

The  book  is  a  world-book.  Scholars  will  reconstruct  their  ideas  from  it, 
economics  examine  the  gradual  fruition  of  trade,  statesmen  devise  fresh  creative 
plans,  and  the  general  reader  will  feel  he  is  no  insignificant  unit,  but  the  splendid 
symbol  of  a  splendid  world. 


CHARLES  CONDER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK. 

By  Frank  Gibson.  With  a  Catalogue  of  the  Lithographs  and 
Etchings  by  Campbell  Dodgson,  M.S.,  Keeper  of  Prints  and 
Drawings,  British  Mnseum.  With  about  100  reproductions  of 
Conder's  work,  12  of  which  are  in  colour.     Demy  4to.     21s.  net. 

%*  With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  articles  in  English  Art  Magazines,  and 
one  or  two  in  French,  German,  and  American  periodicals,  no  book  up  to  the 
present  has  appeared  fully  to  record  the  life  and  work  of  Charles  Condor,  by 
whose  death  English  Art  has  lost  one  oi  its  most  original  personalities.  Con- 
sequently it  has  been  felt  that  a  book  dealing  with  Conder's  life  so  full  oi  interest, 
and  his  work  so  full  oi  charm  and  beauty,  illustrated  by  characteristic  examples 
of  his  Art  both  in  colour  and  in  black  and  white,  would  be  welcome  to  the  already 
great  and  increasing  number  of  his  admirers. 

The  author  of  this  book,  Mr.  Frank  Gibson,  who  knew  Conder  in  his  early 
days  in  Australia  and  afterwards  in  England  during  the  rest  of  the  artist's  life, 
is  enabled  in  consequence  to  do  fu'l  justice,  not  only  to  the  delightful  character 
oi  Conder  as  a  friend,  but  is  also  able  to  appreciate  his  remarkable  talent. 

The  interest  and  value  of  this  work  will  be  greatly  increased  by  the  addition 
of  a  complete  catalogue  of  Conder's  lithographs  and  engravings,  compiled  by 
Mr.  Campbell  Dodgson,  M.A.,  Keeper  of  the  Print-Room  oi  the  British  Museum. 


PHILIP    DUKE    OF    WHARTON.      By    Lewis 
Melville.     Illustrated.     Demy  8vo.     21s.  net. 

*#»  A  character  more  interesting  than  Philip,  Duke  of  Wharton,  does  not 
often  fall  to  the  lot  of  a  biographer,  yet,  by  some  strange  chance,  though  nearly 
two  hundred  years  have  passed  since  that  wayward  genius  passed  away,  the 
present  work  is  the  first  that  gives  a  comprehensive  account  of  his  life.  A  man 
of  unusual  parts  and  unusual  charm,  he  at  once  delighted  and  disgusted  his 
contemporaries.  Unstable  as  water,  he  was  like  Dryden's  Zimri,  "  Everything 
by  starts  and  nothing  long."  He  was  poet  and  pamphleteer,  wit,  statesman, 
buffoon,  and  amorist.  The  son  of  one  of  the  most  stalwart  supporters  of  the 
Hanoverian  dynasty,  he  went  abroad  and  joined  the  Pretender,  who  created  him 
a  dnke.  He  then  returned  to  England,  renounced  the  Stuarts,  and  was  by 
George  I.  also  promoted  to  a  dukedom— while  he  was  yet  a  minor.  He  was  the 
friend  of  Attenbury  and  the  President  of  the  Hell-Fire  Club.  At  one  time  he  was 
leading  Spanish  troops  against  his  countrymen,  at  another  seeking  consolation 
in  a  monastery.    It  is  said  that  he  was  the  original  of  Richardson's  Lovelace. 


14 A   CATALOGUE   OF 

THE   LIFE  OF  MADAME  TALLIEN  NOTRE 

DAME  DE  THERMIDOR  (A  Queen  of  Shreds  and  Patches.) 
From  the  last  days  of  the  French  Revolution,  until  her  death  as 
Princess  Chimay  in  1885.  By  L.  Gastime.  Translated  from 
the  French  by  J.  Lewis  May.  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece 
and  16  other  Illustrations      Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

*V*  There  is  no  one  in  the  history  of  the  French  Revolution  who  has  been 
more  eagerly  canonised  than  Madame Tallien  ;  yet  according  to  M.  Gastine,  there 
is  no  one  in  that  history  who  merited  canonisation  so  little.  He  has  therefore  set 
himself  the  task  of  dissipating  the  mass  of  legend  and  sentiment  that  has 
gathered  round  the  memory  of  "£a  Belle  Tallien"  and  of  presenting  her  to  our 
eyes  as  she  really  was.  The  result  of  his  labour  is  a  volume,  which  combines  the 
scrupulous  exactness  of  conscientious  research  with  the  richness  and  glamour  of 
a  romance.  In  the  place  of  the  beautiful  heroic  but  purely  imaginary  figure  of 
popular  tradition,  we  behold  a  woman,  dowered  indeed  with  incomparable  loveli- 
ness, but  utterly  unmoral,  devoid  alike  of  heart  and  soul,  who  readily  and 
repeatedly  prostituted  her  personal  charms  for  the  advancement  of  her  selfish 
and  ignoble  aims.  Though  Madame  Tallien  is  the  central  figure  of  the  book,  the 
reader  is  introduced  to  many  other  personages  who  played  iamous  or  infamous 
roles  in  the  contemporary  social  or  political  arena,  and  the  volume,  which  is 
enriched  by  a  number  of  interesting  portraits,  throws  a  new  and  valuable  light  on 
this  stormy  and  perennially  fascinating  period  of  French  history. 

MINIATURES  :      A    Series    of  Reproductions    in 

Photogravure  of  Ninety-Six  Miniatures  of  Distinguished  Personages, 
including  Queen  Alexandra,  the  Queen  of  Norway,  the  Princess 
Royal,  and  the  Princess  Victoria.  Painted  by  Charles  Turrell. 
(Folio.)  The  Edition  is  limited  to  One  Hundred  Copies  for  sale 
in  England  and  America,  and  Twenty-Five  Copies  for  Presentation, 
Review,  and  the  Museums.  Each  will  be  Numbered  and  Signed 
by  the  Artist.      1 5  guineas  net. 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT. 

By  his  Valet  Francois.  Translated  from  the  French  by  Maurice 
Reynold.     Demy  8ro.      12s.  6d.  net. 

THE  WIFE  OF  GENERAL  BONAPARTE.     By 

Joseph  Turquan.  Author  of  "  The  Love  Affairs  of  Napoleon," 
etc.  Translated  from  the  French  by  Miss  Violette  Montagu. 
With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  16  other  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

*#*  Although  much  has  been  written  concerning  the  Empress  Josephine,  we 
know  comparatively  little  about  the  veuve  Beauharnais  and  the  ciloytnne 
Bonaparte,  whose  inconsiderate  conduct  during  her  husband's  absence  caused 
him  so  much  anguish.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  consider  Josephine  as  the 
innocent  victim  of  a  cold  and  calculating  tyrant  who  allowed  nothing,  neither 
human  lives  nor  natural  affections,  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  all-conquering  will, 
that  this  volume  will  come  to  us  rather  as  a  surprise.  Modern  historians  are 
over-fond  of  blaming  Napoleon  for  having  divorced  the  companion  of  his  early 
years ;  but  after  having  read  the  above  work,  the  reader  will  be  constrained  to 
admire  General  Bonaparte's  forbearance  and  will  wonder  how  he  ever  came  to 
allow  her  to  play  the  Queen  at  the  Tuileries. 

THE   JOURNAL   OF  A  SPORTING  NOMAD. 

By  J.  T.  STUDLEY.  With  a  Portrait  and  32  other  Illustrations, 
principally  from  Photographs  by  the  Author.  Demy  8vo. 
I2s.   6d.  net. 

*«*  "Not  for  a  long  time  have  we  read  such  straightforward,  entertaining 
accounts  of  wild  sport  and  adventure." — Manchester  Guardian. 

%•  "  His  adventures  have  the  whole  world  for  their  theatre.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  curious  information  and  vivid  narrative  that  will  appeal  to  every- 
body. —Standard 


MEMOIRS,   BIOGRAPHIES,    Etc.         15 
SOPHIE  DAWES,  QUEEN   OF   CHANTILLY. 

By  Violette  M.  Montagu.  Author  of  "The  Scottish  College  in 
Paris,"  etc.  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  16  other 
Illustrations  and  Three  Plans.     Demy  8vo.      i  zs.  6d.  net. 

*jj*  Among'  the  many  queens  of  France,  queens  by  right  of  marriage  with  the 
reigning  sovereign,  queens  of  beauty  or  of  intrigue,  the  name  of  Sophie  Dawes, 
the  daughter  of  bumble  fisherfolk  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  better  known  as  "the 
notorious  Mme.  de  Feucheres,'-  "The  Queen  of  Chantilly"  and  "The  Montespan 
de  Saint  Leu "  in  the  land  which  she  chose  as  a  suitable  sphere  in  which  to 
exercise  her  talents  for  money-making  and  for  getting  on  in  the  world,  stand 
torth  as  a  proof  of  what  a  woman's  will  can  accomplish  when  that  will  is  ac- 
companied with  an  uncommon  share  of  intelligence. 


MARGARET    OF     FRANCE     DUCHESS     OF 

SAVOY.  1 523-1  574.  A  Biography  with  Photogravure  Frontis- 
piece and  16  other  Illustrations  and  Facsimile  Reproductions 
of  Hitherto  Unpublished  Letters.     Demy  8vo.      I  zs.  6d.  net. 

%*  A  time  when  the  Italians  are  celebrating  the  Jubilee  of  the  Italian 
Kingdom  is  perhaps  no  unfitting  moment  in  which  to  glance  back  over  the  annals 
of  that  royal  House  of  Savoy  which  has  rendered  Italian  unity  possible.  Margaret 
of  France  may  without  exaggeration  be  counted  among  the  builders  of  modern 
Italy.  She  married  Emanuel  Philibert,  the  founder  of  Savoyard  greatness  ;  and 
from  the  day  of  her  marriage  until  the  day  of  her  death  she  laboured  to  advance 
the  interests  of  her  adopted  land. 


MADAME    DE    BRINVILLIERS    AND     HER 

TIMES.     1630-1676.    By  Hugh  Stokes.    With  a  Photogravure 
Frontispiece  and  1 6  other  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.     I  zs.  6d.  net. 

%*The  name  of  Marie  Marguerite  d'Aubray,  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers,  is 
famous  in  the  annals  ot  crime,  but  the  true  history  of  her  career  is  little  known. 
A  woman  of  birth  and  rank,  she  was  also  a  remorseless  poisoner,  and  her  trial 
was  ene  of  the  most  sensational  episodes  of  the  early  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  The 
author  was  attracted  to  this  curious  subject  by  Charles  le  Brun's  realistic  sketch 
of  the  unhappy  Marquise  as  she  appeared  on  her  way  to  execution.  This  chej 
doeitvre  of  misery  and  agony  forms  the  frontispiece  to  the  volume,  and  strikes  a 
fitting  keynote  to  an  absorbing  story  of  human  passion  and  wrong-doing. 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  A  LADY-IN  WAITING. 

1 7 3 5- 1 82 1 .  By  Eugene  Welvert.  Translated  from  the  French 
by  Lilian  O'Neill  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  16 
other  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

»,»  The  Duchesse  de  Narbonne-Lara  was  Lady-in-Waiting  to  Madame 
Adelaide,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Louis  XV.  Around  the  stately  figure  of  this 
Princess  are  gathered  the  most  remarkable  characters  01  the  days  of  the  Old 
Regime,  the  Revolution  and  the  first  Empire.  The  great  charm  of  the  work  is 
that  it  takes  us  over  so  much  and  varied  ground.  Here,  in  the  gay  crowd  ot 
ladies  and  courtiers,  in  the  rustle  of  flowery  silken  paniers,  in  the  clatter  of  high- 
heeled  shoes,  move  the  figures  of  Louis  (XV.,  Louis  XVI.,  Du  Barri  and  Mane- 
Antoinette.  We  catch  picturesque  glimpses  of  the  great  wits,  diplomatists  and 
soldiers  of  the  time,  until,  finally  we  encounter  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 


ANNALS  OF  A  YORKSHIRE  HOUSE.     From 

the  Papers  of  a  Macaroni  and  his  kindred.  By  A.  M.  W.  Stirling, 
author  of  "Coke  of  Norfolk  and  his  Friends."  With  33 
Illustrations,  including  3  in  Colour  and  3  in  Photogravure. 
Demy  8vo.      2  vols.      32s.  net. 


MEMOIRS,    BIOGRAPHIES,    Etc.         16 
WILLIAM    HARRISON    AINSWORTH     AND 

HIS  FRIENDS.  By  S.  M.  Ellis.  With  upwards  of  50 
Illustrations,  4  in  Photogravure.      2  vols.     Demy  8vo.      325.  net. 

NAPOLEON  AND  KING  MURAT.     1805-18 15  : 

A  Biography  compiled  from  hitherto  Unknown  and  Unpublished 
Documents.  By  Albert  Espitalier.  Translated  from  the  French 
by  J.  Lewis  May.  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  16 
other  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.      1 2s.  6d.  net. 

LADY  CHARLOTTE  SCHREIBER'S  JOURNALS 

Confidences  of  a  Collector  of  Ceramics  and  Antiques  throughout 
Britain,  France,  Germany,  Italy,  Spain,  Holland,  Belgium, 
Switzerland,  and  Turkey.  From  the  year  1869  to  1885.  Edited 
by  Montague  Guest,  with  Annotations  by  Egan  Mew.  With 
upwards  of  100  Illustrations,  including  8  in  colour  and  2  in 
Photogravure.     Royal  8vo.      2  volumes.     42s.  net. 

CHARLES   DE   BOURBON,    CONSTABLE   OF 

FRANCE  :  "The  Great  Condottiere."  By  Christopher 
Hare.  With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  1 6  other  Illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.      12s.  6d.  net. 

THE  NELSONS  OF  BURNHAM  THORPE:  A 

Record  of  a  Norfolk  Family  compiled  from  Unpublished  Letters 
and  Note  Books,  1787- 1 843.  Edited  by  M.  Eyre  Matcham. 
With  a  Photogravure  Frontispiece  and  16  other  illustrations. 
Demy  8vo.     16s.  net. 

*#*  This  interesting  contribution  to  Nelson  literature  is  drawn  from  the 
journals  and  correspondence  of  the  Rev.  Edmund  Nelson,  Rector  of  Burnham 
Thorpe  and  his  youngest  daughter,  the  father  and  sister  of  Lord  Nelson.  The 
Rector  was  evidently  a  man  of  broad  views  and  sympathies,  for  we  find  him 
maintaining  friendly  relations  with  his  son  and  daughter-in-law  after  their 
separation.  What  is  even  more  strange,  he  felt  perfectly  at  liberty  to  go  direct 
from  the  house  of  Mrs.  Horatio  Nelson  in  Norfolk  to  that  of  Sir  William  and 
Lady  Hamilton  in  London,  where  his  son  was  staying.  This  book  shows  how 
completely  and  without  any  reserve  the  family  received  Lady  Hamilton. 

MARIA  EDGEWORTH  AND  HER  CIRCLE 
IN  THE  DAYS  OF  BONAPARTE  AND  BOURBON. 
By  Constance  Hill.  Author  of  "Jane  Austen  :  Her  Homes 
and  Her  Friends,"  "Juniper  Hall,"  "The  House  in  St.  Martin's 
Street,"  etc.  With  numerous  Illustrations  by  Ellen  G.  Hill 
and  Reproductions  of  Contemporary  Portraits,  etc.  Demy  8vo. 
2 is.  net. 

CESAR  FRANCK :  A  Study.     Translated  from  the 

French  of  Vincent  d'Indy,  with  an  Introduction  by  Rosa  New- 
uarch.     Demy  8vo.     7s.  6d.  net. 


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